The Danger in Reading
by UndercoverFabala
Summary: Who ever would have thought that books could be dangerous? Who ever thought they could be true? This is an attempt to be original, see what anyone thinks. Rated M in case of incidence.
1. The consequences of talking to strangers

Isabelle Torch walked briskly down the sidewalk, book in hand, heedless of the people spinning by her. It was a brisk autumn morning and she wore a yellow dress with a green cardigan and sensible brown heels under her blue wool coat. With a heart-shaped face, curly brown hair, and bright hazel eyes, she was pretty, but wouldn't have known had anyone noticed. A quiet girl by nature, Isabelle never went anywhere without a book, even when she was late like today. Shopkeepers smiled as the petite girl passed by, far too engrossed in her reading to notice their salutations.

A jingling bell announced her arrival and she finally slipped her book into her satchel and called, "I'm here, Mr. Giles!"

"About time for that too, Isabelle. What kept you?" An English gentleman emerged from the back of the bookshop, wiping his glasses with a rag. Giles Morey was a pleasant-looking man in his late forties who was fond of wearing tweed suits with bow ties, and always seemed to be preoccupied by something other than what was directly beneath his nose. The only thing he gave his absolute attention to was books.

She smiled at him shyly as she stepped past him to hang her coat and bag on one of three hooks in the cramped room behind the counter. "My Dad needed some things from the store, so he sent me out before work. It won't happen again."

"Yes, well, if you're sure," the older man replied a little absentmindedly, already turning away. "I need to run some errands this morning, so I'll be out until lunch. Do you need anything before I leave?"

"No, Mr. Giles. I'm sure I'll be fine," she assured him quietly.

Isabelle liked her life, for the most part. She liked her job. She liked writing and reading. She took small pleasures in the mundane aspects of her life. Other than family and work, she didn't have many friends, though she was clever and charming if you could get her talking. Within days of starting kindergarten, she had been labelled a dreamer and most of her peers had left her alone. Even as she grew older, she felt more of an affinity toward books than her classmates and never went on dates or spent time with girls her age. It didn't bother her so much that her father was a drunk because he didn't hit her too often. She didn't mind that her mother was the human incarnation of spite because she only saw her on Sunday for lunch. Despite the tediousness and sometimes repulsive details of her existence, she was happy because she chose to be.

Shortly after Mr. Giles took his leave, the bell rang and Isabelle looked up from her book. A young man had entered the shop. He wore a gray jacket over a red shirt with blue jeans. A pair of thick-framed rectangular glasses perched on his nose and a satchel was slung over his thin shoulders. He was medium height and build; in fact, everything about him seemed medium, from his friendly brown eyes to his styled brown hair. He was quite handsome, in a brainy sort of way, and Isabelle couldn't help blushing as she straightened.

"Can I help you with anything, sir?" she asked pleasantly. Her eyes narrowed slightly in confusion as she noticed a small device with a blinking red light in his hand.

Dropping it to his side in an attempt to stifle the light and quiet bleeping emanating from the apparatus, he smiled at her and shook his head, scratching behind his ear. "No, I'm just looking around. Thank you."

She watched him as he moved slowly through the shelves of books, holding up the bleeping contraption and scanning each volume intensely. He made a whole circle of the shop before coming to a stop directly in front of her, staring at the gadget in confusion before looking up to find her gazing at him expectantly.

"Do you need help finding something?" she asked with a smile, trying to appear unfazed by the rapid bleeping of the device in his hand.

He stared at her for a moment before looking down at the machine, then back again. His brown eyes then focused on something behind her and he nodded toward the locked bookshelves that lined the back wall. "I wonder if you would let me take a look at those books?"

Isabelle quickly shook her head and turned to the glass cases that stood behind the counter, stocked with old and rare books. "I'm sorry, that's Mr. Giles' private collection. They're not for sale."

The young man's face transformed as he granted her a charming grin and leaned his arms on the counter. Isabelle took a quick, embarrassed step back. "Oh, come on. Just a quick peak? He won't ever know."

"I'm sorry, but I can't do that," she told him stiffly, her face flushing. She wasn't used to such blatant attention focused solely on her person. Most people treated her as though she didn't exist, or even as though she was an infant down for a nap. It was rare for her to be approached so boldly. "Why don't you come back after lunch and you can talk to Mr. Giles? They're his books, after all, and he would probably be able to help you better than I can."

"Oh, I don't know," he smiled. "You seem like a girl who knows her way around the DDC."

Feeling as though her face was on fire, she shook her head resolutely. "I'm afraid these books go beyond Mr. Dewey's classification. The most recent book on those shelves is an original print of Edgar Allan Poe's _Tales_ published in 1845 and none of them have ever _seen_ an ISBN number."

"How do you know that?" the young man grinned, as if delighted with her knowledge.

His question and tone caught her off guard and she stammered, "I- I borrowed it last week."

He stared at her for a moment, as if weighing his options, before taking a step back and nodding. "You know, I think I'll come back after lunch. Thanks." She watched as he turned and headed toward the door, stopping just short and looking back at her with a grin. "What's your name, anyway?"

She felt her cheeks warm again and she tried not to fidget as she answered him. "Isabelle."

Putting a hand on the strap of his satchel, he cocked his head to the side and smiled genuinely. "It's nice to meet you, Isabelle. I'm Lucas."

Inexplicably, she found herself returning his smile as he nodded and left the store. The bell tinkled when the door closed and she leaned forward to prop her elbows on the counter, exhaling the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. What was with that guy? He had seemed so serious and intense, then he had practically flirted with her. She turned and leaned back, examining the heavy tomes that made up Mr. Giles's private collection. Which one had he been interested in?

The morning passed slowly, though Isabelle was busier than usual with both regular and new customers coming in and looking for specific books. The store could be a little daunting, so she was called upon to help find the desired volumes, not to mention making a few deliveries. By the time Mr. Giles had returned, she was starving and happily left the shop for her lunch break. She sat at a deli across the street, eating with one hand while her nose was buried in the book she had brought with her, completely oblivious to the fact that she was being watched. Lucas sat two tables over with a newspaper, scrutinizing her intently over the folded print. Utterly unaware of the attention, she finished her meal and returned to work.

She was closing up shop several hours later when she remembered the visitor. "Mr. Giles, did a young man come in while I was at lunch? I think he wanted to ask you about your private collection."

Giles shook his head, cleaning his glasses, before turning to look at her. "I'm afraid not, Isabelle. Did he say what he wanted in particular?"

"No, but he said he might come in later," she explained as she donned her coat.

"Well, no matter," he shrugged as he placed his glasses back on his face. "Did you want to borrow anything for the weekend?"

She smiled. He asked her each week if she wanted to borrow any of his books before he locked them up and she never declined. She ran her eyes fondly over the unique tomes before stepping forward to draw out a medium-sized, red volume.

"The Secrets of the Universe and Other Short Stories," she read the spine aloud. "This sounds interesting."

"Yes, I've had it for a while but never had a chance to read it," Mr. Giles agreed as he carefully locked the case.

Isabelle slipped the book carefully into her satchel and allowed him to usher her out, setting the alarm before locking the door. "I'm sure it will be brilliant. Thank you, Mr. Giles. Have a good weekend."

He bid her the same, but she noticed he was already reaching for a slim novel in his coat pocket as he turned to walk away from her. She shook her head before making her way home, eager to finish her last book and start on the new one. First, however, she had to stop in the market and get supplies to make dinner. The sun was setting by the time she reached her own street.

"Dad! I'm home!" she called as she entered the dark flat. The only light was coming from the parlor, where her father was predictably sprawled on the couch watching television. He grunted when she stuck her head in, but didn't look at her. "I'm making pasta for dinner tonight. Does that sound okay?"

Finally, his red eyes turned to her and he frowned. "Where's my beer? Can't a man get a drink in his own house? What do you think I pay you for?"

She had already seen the cans littering the floor and the older man's slurred, aggressive speech made it clear he had pissed away another day with drinking. Isabelle bit back a sigh. "I'm your _daughter_, Dad. You don't pay me. And anyway, I got you a fresh pack this morning. Don't you remember?"

He only scowled more fiercely than ever and she ducked quickly out of the room just as a can bounced against the wall five feet from her head. At least his aim wasn't very good. She moved into the kitchen and began cooking dinner, steeling herself for the nightly ritual of trying to convince her father that he needed more than alcohol to survive. Some days she didn't know why she even bothered. Other days, she tried to convince herself he was some kind of robot that really _did_ subsist on pure alcohol.

Returning to the parlor nearly forty-five minutes later, she turned on a lamp and set a steaming plate on the coffee table. "You need to eat something, dad. This will make you feel better," she told him softly.

He turned his nose up, but she didn't stick around for the customary argument. Instead, she walked away and took her own meal in the peaceful sanctuary of the kitchen. She had just finished eating when the phone rang, shrieking through the still house like a siren. Isabelle answered curiously: they hardly ever received telephone calls.

"Hello?"

"Isabelle? Thank heavens, it's you," Mr. Giles' harried voice came over the line. "It's simply dreadful! Someone tried to break into the shop."

Alarm slammed through her and she asked, "Is everything all right? Do you need me to come down?"

"No, no," he assured her quickly. "Everything is fine. A constable was nearby and chased the thief off. One of my bookcases was jimmied open, but there doesn't seem to be anything missing."

"Who could have done that? Are you sure nothing is missing? I can come down if you need me, Mr. Giles," she offered kindly.

"No, no, no, don't trouble yourself. The alarm hadn't even gone off. It's a trifle strange, but I'm going through the inventory now to double check that everything is here for the police. I just wanted to call to make sure you had gotten home all right. I had worried, since the security system was disarmed... that someone might have gotten you to punch in the code. But that's ridiculous. Please, don't let this ruin your weekend. I'll take care of everything and see you on Monday." He sounded quite upset, but she reluctantly agreed to stay home. They said their goodbyes and she hung up the phone before turning to find her father glaring at her from the doorway.

"I thought I told you not to be calling boys from here, Isabelle," he growled menacingly.

"That wasn't a boy, dad. That was my boss," she explained patiently, her worry about Mr. Giles and the shop quickly being replaced by another emotion. It was almost as though she could sense the storm building inside her father's brain. "Someone tried to break into the bookstore and he called to tell me."

"Don't think I don't know what you're doing," he shouted, swaying slightly as he poked a finger at her. "You're just a slut like your mother!"

Her cheeks began to burn, but she lowered her eyes and moved to the sink. It was nothing but an exercise in futility to try to argue with him when he was like this. He strode forward and grabbed her arm, making her gasp in pain as he swung her around to face him. "Don't you ignore me when I'm talking to you!" he yelled, his stinking breath making her cringe away from him.

Suddenly, he backhanded her a cross the face, causing her to lurch to the side as stars exploded before her eyes. With his hands holding her tightly, she ended up tumbling against his stomach and he leaned forward and vomited over her shoulder. Getting sick seemed to take a little of the fire out of him and he let her go as he wobbled unstably, looking at her as if he had just noticed she was there.

She moved forward and put an arm around his waist, pulling one of his arms across her shoulders. "Come on, dad. Let's get you to bed."

He stumbled after her, allowing her to support most of his considerable weight on her slim shoulders. "You smell like shit," he slurred abruptly.

"I know, dad," she conceded as she helped him to his room. She let him fall onto his bed and covered him with a blanket as he quickly lost consciousness, before heading back to clean up the kitchen. She noticed with some chagrin that he had actually eaten some of the pasta she had made for him. It was well over an hour later before she was able to take a shower, throwing her stained dress and sweater into the wash on the way.

She made a face in the mirror as she looked at the dusky shadow that encompassed her entire cheek. Her stomach twisted as she counted the five dark finger marks on her arm. With a sigh, she turned on the shower and stepped in, briskly scrubbing her hair and body attempting to dispel the noxious stench of vomit. The room was full of steam by the time she got out, feeling marginally better. Darting from the bathroom to her bedroom in a towel, she shivered into a soft navy shirt, blue and white plaid flannel pants, and soft house socks. Rubbing her hair dry, she sighed and returned the towel to the bathroom before switching the laundry and retrieving her satchel from the hallway. Back in her room, she shut and locked the door and pulled the books out of her bag.

"Not tonight, my friend," she murmured sadly to the heavy red volume as she set it on her night table. She had planned to finish her first book earlier and start learning the secrets of the universe that evening, but her father's unfortunate regurgitation made that highly improbable. Curling up in bed, Isabelle opened the other book and began reading, lost to her feelings and the rest of the world for several hours.

She fell asleep with the light on, leaning over the book as her breath stirred the last few pages pinned beneath her fingers. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the lamp light began to fade and the room grew steadily colder. Isabelle slept on, oblivious to the ambient changes or the soft voices that rose from an inaudible pressure to a steady hum as they radiated from all sides of the room.

Lucas appeared on the end of her block, staring quizzically at his locator before looking up at the dark houses. "What are you doing here?" he asked in a low voice.

He followed the bleeps to a gloomy, run down house with a large, leafless tree in the front yard. Standing at the foot of the oak, he stared at a darkened window on the second story and sighed. Stashing the locator in his pocket, he gripped a low-hanging branch and hauled himself up the rough bark until he was crouching on a thick limbjust outside the window. Peering into the shadowy interior, he noticed a thin tendril of luminescent green smoke curling up from the pages of a book sitting open on the floor.

"Shit," he swore, quickly rummaging in his bag and pulling out a thin, round tube, which he dragged against the top of the window. Both locks clicked open and he quickly pushed up the sash and dropped into the frigid room. The voices intensified as he took in the girl slumped over her book and a wisp of pale steam issuing between her slightly parted lips. "Not this time."

In a flash, he leapt forward and kicked the book closed. The voices instantly stopped as the lamp sprang to life and pale warmth flooded the room. At the snap of the book, Isabelle shot up in bed, blinking in confusion as her mind worked sluggishly to comprehend the scene that lay before her.

"What are you-?" she stammered while he leaned down to grasp the book by its binding. When he grinned at her and turned toward the window, she pushed herself out of bed and cried, "Hey, that's not yours! You can't take that!"

"It's a bit too late for that," Lucas laughed as he ducked out the window. He had his foot on the tree branch when Isabelle caught the book, tugging him off balance. He let out a short shout as he fell backwards and she screamed as his weight dragged her against the wall and pulled her forward to dangle precariously on the sill.

"Let go!" He shouted, surprised that she was able to hold his weight. As the thought occurred to him, he felt her give a little as her hips slid over the lip of the window. Isabelle screamed, her eyes wide and terrified as she fell with him.

Grunting with determination, Lucas released the book, landed in a crouch and straightened to catch her, only to be knocked from his feet by the impact. They had only fallen a single story and she was relatively small in stature, but the force of gravity was enough to knock the wind out of him. They were both stunned for a moment, but Isabelle recovered first and quickly rolled off of him. Jumping to her feet, she held the book to her chest.

"What the hell was that?" she cried in wide-eyed disbelief.

Lucas pushed himself up, dusting off and giving her a wry, sideways glance. "Look- I'm sorry that happened. Just give me the book and I'll be on my way."

He held out his hand expectantly and she took a step backwards, shaking her head. "I'm not giving you the book. It's not mine!"

"What if I told you that book was _very_ important?" he asked reasonably. "It could mean the difference between life and death for somebody."

Isabelle wavered, scrutinizing his earnest face. When she responded, her voice was soft, concerned. "What do you mean? Whose life is in danger?"

"Yours," he replied seriously, taking a quick pace toward her and putting his hand on the red spine.

She furrowed her brow and stared up into his somber brown eyes, but held on when he gently tugged at the book. "Why should I believe you? How could a book hurt me?"

Pushing up his glasses, he replied frankly, "It'll suck out your soul and possess your body in order to return to the corporeal world and subjugate the living."

Isabelle stared at him for a moment before shaking her head. "I don't believe you."

"You don't have to believe me for it to be true," he reasoned. Without warning, he jerked the book out of her hand and stashed it in his satchel in one smooth movement. Grinning, he took another step back and half-turned toward the street. "Thanks Isabelle."

Pelting forward, she grabbed his arm. "Wait. What are you going to do with it?"

"Burn it," he told her simply. He allowed her to keep pace with him as he hurried down the sidewalk.

She was so surprised, she actually stopped, staring at him in horror before rushing to catch up. "How could you destroy it? It was printed at the beginning of the sixteenth century! It has has _hand-drawn _pictures. It's the only _known_ copy to exist."

"Exactly. So burning it will seal the beast and it won't be able to hurt anyone else," Lucas replied cheerfully.

"You just can't do that!" she cried, tears gathering in her eyes as she caught his arm and pulled him to a halt.

"Why not? If I don't destroy it, it'll eventually escape. If it escapes, it'll hurt _and_ kill a lot of people," he explained patiently.

She was so distraught that the tears poured down her cheeks. "But you simply _can't_! I don't believe any of what your staying, but even if it were true, this was a _book_ before it was a prison. You wouldn't only be destroying a creature, you'd be erasing the author's thoughts and dreams from existence."

Lucas had never seen anyone get so worked up over a book and it gave him pause. "Well, it wasn't written to contain someone's ideals. It was written to create a vessel to bridge the gap between this world and the Void and allow the creature to cross over. If you think of it that way, the author's purpose was far from virtuous and destroying the book would actually be a good thing."

Throughout his speech, Isabelle's tears slowed and she raised her eyebrows at him critically when he had finished. "You've certainly put some thought into this. How do I know you're telling the truth?"

"Still worried about the book, aren't you?" he chuckled. "You'll see when I burn it."

Isabelle bit her lip, eyeing him with serious misgivings. "You want me to stand back and watch you burn my boss's priceless, one-of-a-kind book?"

"Yes."

"Even though you understand that I'm morally opposed to destroying books?" she queried skeptically.

His brown eyes stared penetratingly into hers and he replied, "It's easy to think that books are helpless victims, Isabelle, but they're not. And they're not all good. Some of them aren't worth defending."

"I just don't feel right about people destroying books," she admitted sadly.

"How do you feel about books destroying people?" he shot back.

Unabashed, Isabelle gave him a hard stare. "Only evil people destroy books."

Lucas gave her a wry smile and asked, "Yeah? Who told you that?"

"I read it in a book." She said it so matter-of-factly that he couldn't help raising his eyebrows.

Reaching down, he took hold of her hand and squeezed it, leaning in close. "You can come with me and see if you still believe that by morning."

Isabelle blushed and stared at him, split between fear, mortification and curiosity. Her whole life, she had dreamed of being a part of the world, but had never quite made it. She almost felt like she was waiting for something to happen. Burying herself in her books, she had been able to live a million different lives. Vibrant, adventurous, wonderful lives. She didn't know if it was the moonlight, the way he smiled at her, or the general feeling of unreality, but she felt like she simply _had_ to go with him. She didn't think of her family or anyone missing her. She didn't think about her work or the fact that Mr. Giles would be devastated at the loss of one of his precious volumes. She didn't even think about Lucas being a strange man offering to take her off alone to God-knows-where. The only thing in her mind was a choice: she could stay and live her life the way she always had, or, for the first time, she had the power to choose something different for herself. Almost without realizing it, she nodded.

Lucas grinned down at her as though he was Father Christmas and had brought her a pony. Rummaging in his satchel, he pulled out an old, battered copy of _The Time Machine _and flipped it open to a well-worn page. His eyes twinkled irrepressibly as he caught her gaze. "Here we go."


	2. Too Much Information

Chapter 2

In a strong, clear voice, Lucas read out, "I was, so to speak, attenuated--was slipping like a vapour through the interstices of intervening substances!"

Like the Time Traveler in Wells' classic book, Isabelle heard thunder clap in her ears and a biting hail swirled around her as the world turned gray. She gripped Lucas' hand fiercely and looked up to find him laughing, his short hair whipping around in the icy precipitation. He lifted his chin and stared into the wind. When he caught her gaze, he grinned madly and she couldn't help the wild chuckle that escaped her throat.

As suddenly as it had begun, it stopped. Moonlight flooded the landscape and Isabelle gaped at their surroundings. They had arrived in a small, bush rimmed courtyard that seemed to be part of a larger labyrinth and was surrounded by six columns. The ground beneath their feet was cobbled with white stones and soft, yellow lights were emanating from what seemed like a thousand windows at the back of an enormous English mansion.

Lucas turned to find her goggling at the view and grinned. "You okay?"

She nodded mutely and he pulled on her hand. "All right, then. Let's go."

He led her on a twisting path to a rough wooden door. Without knocking, he turned the knob and stepped inside, instructing her to take off her shoes before realizing she wasn't wearing any. He suddenly frowned, taking in her pajamas and rumpled hair.

"I guess there's no help for it," he sighed, pulling her down a dark corridor to their right. The passages of the house twisted and turned. Upstairs, left, right, up two flights of stairs, left, left, downstairs. They passed countless doors and windows. Dark empty rooms and rooms filled with light and people of all ages dancing, reading, eating, fighting, and pursuing innumerable other interests Isabelle couldn't begin to describe. There didn't seem to be any rhyme or reason to it. Eventually they arrived outside a honey-colored oak door and Lucas opened it, motioning her in ahead of him.

"Find something you like to wear. I'll wait out here and then we can go meet with The Professor." She gave him a wide-eyed, frightened look and he smiled. "Don't worry. I'll be right here."

Finally, she nodded and allowed him to close the door behind her. Looking around the circular room, she saw racks upon racks of clothes, in all shapes, sizes, colors, and patterns. There was a spiral staircase in the middle of the room, going both up and down, and she could see even _more_ clothing on both levels. Though she was a bit intimidated by the mounds of garments, she quickly chose a soft two-toned blue dress and pale yellow shrug to go over it. For the first time, she was pleased that she had small breasts. There were no undergarments in sight, but the cut of the dress along with her petite size made her lack of a proper bra virtually unnoticeable.

There was a mirror hanging on the wall and she took a quick look, combing her fingers through her softly curling tresses to brush it into some semblance of organized chaos. He hair was normally a little untidy, she did it that way on purpose. To her relief, it settled down obediently.

Gathering up her folded pajamas, she padded softly back to the door, still in her fluffy house socks, and opened it, stepping out to find Lucas waiting patiently leaning against the wall on the far side of the hallway. He straightened and grinned when he saw her and reached out a hand for her clothes, slipping them deftly into his satchel. His dark eyes took a quick scan down her attire and he nodded his approval.

"You look lovely," he commented casually as he held out his hand. She stared at it for a second before looking up to find him grinning at her. He wiggled his fingers encouragingly and she gingerly slipped her hand into his, a warm flush creeping into her face. "You don't touch other people often, do you Isabelle?"

Her head snapped up at the question and she caught his friendly, quizzical look before dropping her eyes back to the floor. "I bet people don't touch you, either, huh? Except here," he murmured, reaching up to gently caress the light bruise on her face and causing her to practically jump out of her skin. In truth, she had forgotten the bruise; the row with her father felt like it had been months ago instead of mere hours.

"I had an accident," she mumbled as she pulled back, releasing his hand. She had never had to explain her bruises before and felt ridiculous for the lie. Lucas raised a single, skeptical eyebrow, somehow making her feel as though he knew the truth, which made her even more self-conscious.

Rather than contradict her, however, he held out his hand once more and said, "Let's go. We've a lot to do if I'm going to change your mind about me tonight."

She glanced up to find him regarding her in the same friendly way. He seemed unflappable; perfectly amiable to any situation. Thinking back, Isabelle realized that he always seemed to have a ready grin for her, regardless of her reaction to circumstances. It suddenly dawned on her that she genuinely liked him, though he was still little more than a stranger. A very strange stranger at that! Shyly, she took his hand once more and allowed him to lead her through the cavernous house.

After nearly a full minute, curiosity overpowered her shyness. "So... Lucas?"

He turned to her expectantly.

"What is this place? Who are you really? What are all these people doing here?" She stopped abruptly, her face heating. She had only meant to ask one question at a time, but there were so many buzzing inside her head like angry bees that three had popped out unintentionally.

Lucas didn't seem to mind. "_This place _is headquarters. I happen to belong to a very old and very secret society of monks."

"So... you're a monk?" she interrupted incredulously. She had to fight the urge to cover her mouth as her face flamed. She had never interrupted anyone before.

Grinning, he nodded. "Yes, but not in the way you think. The Order doesn't practice celibacy. It's just not very practical when you're a secret society. In your normal monastic traditions, stuffy old men always end up calling the shots and making the same mistakes over and over. This way there's a constant influx of new ideas and people. It's not perfect, but it works. We don't serve any specific god or religion, either. That cuts down on the need for recruiting. We started out as a small family group, chosen by a handful of powerful gods at the beginning of civilization, but we've branched out over the past several thousand years. Now, we're more of a liaison between humanity and the other-natural."

"Other-natural?"

He chuckled. "Well, you would probably call it the _supernatural_, but there's really not anything extraordinary about it when you realize that they've been around a lot longer than humans. Gods, demons, the Loch Ness monster, mermaids, aliens, ghosts, magical creatures, parallel universes, Bigfoot, faeries; they're all over. Most people simply _don't_ see them. When something peculiar _does _happen, they think it's out of the ordinary and assume it's supernatural when in fact, it's just the way the Others are. Magic and powers are as natural as breathing to _them_."

Isabelle frowned, trying to absorb everything he had just said. It was a little far-fetched. "So, you said that your Order was started by a family group? Whose family? Who was the founder?"

"You've heard of Adam and Eve, right?" he asked cheerfully.

She gaped at him. "Are you going to tell me that the creation myth in the Bible is true? Adam and Eve _founded_ your religion?"

He made a face as he answered her. "Well, it's not exactly a religion. It's complicated. I'll explain more later. In any case, you'd be hard pressed to find any myth that didn't have _some _element of truth in it. However, Adam and Eve weren't our founders. It was actually Steve."

"As in Adam and Steve?" Isabelle asked skeptically. "The fundamentalist's rhyme against homosexuality was an actual person?"

"People used to be more fluid in their interpretations of sexuality," Lucas explained lightly. "The general philosophy was 'If it feels good, do it.' Adam, however, was kind of wishy-washy and when he chose Eve over Steve... well, Steve took it kind of hard. It's not exactly like the myth, though because there weren't _just_ two or three or four people on the planet and Steve eventually made a family of his own."

"With who? Dennis?"

Lucas smiled, appreciating her sarcasm before shaking his head. "No. Lilith. I'm sure you've heard of her in the Catholic version. Lilith was one of the lesser demons and she and Steve hit it off, both having been dumped by Adam. Needless to say, they had a lot to talk about."

They stopped outside of what appeared to be a set of elevator doors and Lucas pressed the button. Isabelle's incredulity was increasing exponentially and she took the opportunity to voice her doubt. "So, they got together and made a family based on their mutual dislike for Adam? Adam of the creation myth? This is ridiculous."

"You say that, but you're still here," Lucas grinned.

"Well, it's not as if I can just go home," she replied defensively. "I don't even really know where we are."

"It's just as easy to bring you back as it was getting you here. All you have to do is say the word and I'll take you home." Though his face gave nothing away, she knew he was telling the truth. She also sensed that he really wanted her to stay.

The doors slid silently open and she preceded him inside. "What happened next?"

There was that irrepressible grin again. He gently squeezed her hand. "Lilith and Steve had some children and eventually, they were asked to be... helpers to some of the gods. Because Lilith wasn't human, her kids had powers of their own. Powers over the elements. We've intermarried with outsiders over the years, but the capacity is essentially still there. Now we're pretty much like police- helping those who need it and stopping those who cause problems."

"Like whatever is in my book?"

"His name is Bue. He originally lived around the Gilbert Islands near Australia. He likes knowledge and he _really_ likes to show off. At first, he was harmless. Helpful, even. Teaching people about navigating, building, divination- that sort of thing. But after a while, he started wanting to know more. It's not hard to guess how that quickly got out of hand. One of the members of the Order banished him to the Void, but some idiot in the sixteenth century decided he wanted all of that useless knowledge for himself and found a way to call him back through the book."

"So, why hasn't he gotten out before now?" Isabelle asked skeptically.

"He needs souls to do it. Virgin souls. Of young women," Lucas explained meaningfully. Isabelle blushed. "Most gods aren't that finicky, but Bue is arrogant. Each person who reads the book adds to his power. From what I saw in your bedroom, he didn't even need you to read it. He was going to take you. That means that you're the last one he needs."

"Why didn't he go after you..." she trailed off in embarassment.

"I'm not a girl," he answered. For the first time, she saw him blush. Something about that made her feel a pleasant queasiness in her mid-section.

Isabelle swallowed convulsively before realizing they had stopped. Outside the doors was a cavernous, shadowy hallway, lined with immense portraits outside a pair of tall oak doors. The golden wood seemed to shine and hum in the gloom and Isabelle felt a thrill of anticipation as Lucas put his palm against the wood and turned to grin at her.

"You're gonna love this."

With less force than she would have guessed was needed he pushed and the door swung silently open. Her breath caught in her throat and she squeezed his hand as they stepped inside. It was a library the likes of which she had never seen. On three stories, rows of bookshelves reached from the floor to the ceiling stretching out into the darkness on either side. Books of all sizes and colors crowded the shelves. The polished wooden floor stretched out before them an improbable distance, spanning at least the length of a football field if not more.

"It's so beautiful," she whispered breathlessly. In her eyes, each book was like a person. An old friend or a new acquaintance. Each had its own personality. Each had a story to tell. Her ears tingled. She could practically hear their voices calling out to her. Urging her to come read them. Her fingers itched to caress their time-worn pages. Her nose twitched. The whole room was filled with the smell of experience and wisdom, more overwhelming than any library she'd ever been in. Her heart hummed in delight, as though the very walls were imbued with special magic that resonated in each visitor.

"You see, we don't hate books," Lucas explained in a hushed, warm voice. "We love them. We take care of them and benefit from the wisdom they have to pass on. But not all books are good. Some books are just evil. The one you had would taint every book in here. Destroy any person who tried to read it. Its secrets are best lost to the ages."

She felt something akin to physical pain as she imagined these precious volumes wasting away. Ravaged by Bue for his own purposes. She could practically see the spirits of the books fading, crying out in agony as they were drained of vitality. Her heart wrenched at the possibility. Lucas tugged her hand gently, urging her forward and she looked up in time to catch his knowing look.

"Some of the world's best authors were members of our Order. We keep the original copies of their books here because they have power."

"What do you mean? Shakespeare and Wells and that sort?" she asked curiously.

Lucas chuckled. "Shakespeare wasn't even human, let alone a member of the Order, but Wells was. So were writers like Leo Tolstoy, Charles Dickens, Agatha Christie, Roald Dahl, J.K. Rowling-"

"J.K. Rowling is part of the Order?" Isabelle interrupted incredulously. She was making a habit of that.

"Well, she _was _until she got her book published. What most people took as a great work of fiction, others saw as a political critique. Some of the things she wrote ruffled a few too many feathers," he replied sheepishly. "But most of it really happened."

Isabelle stared at him. "That means, if I wanted to, I could actually meet Harry Potter?"

An uncomfortable look flashed across his face and he shrugged. "Well, no. See, he died after the final fight with Voldemort. And his name was actually Bertram Porter. But you can go to Hogwarts. That exists. Take in a class and everything."

Isabelle closed her eyes and thought for a moment, allowing him to lead her blindly down the isle. "So, what you're trying to tell me is that everything I've ever read is basically true."

He nodded. "That sounds about right."

"But how is that possible?" she asked, perplexed.

Lucas smiled and replied, "It's simple Isabelle. In the best lies, there's always a small kernel of truth. Most everything that's been written has some basis in fact."

"What about religions?" she countered quickly. "They all contradict each other one way or another. They can't all be true."

Sighing, Lucas reached up to rub the back of his head. "Yeah, religions are a bit tricky. Especially when you factor Chris into the equation."

"Chris?"

"Well, you've probably heard of him as Jesus Christ. He's a demigod who started the whole Christian religion, but he likes to play pranks. He also came as Joseph Smith, Muhammad, and the first Abraham. He doesn't really know when to quit. Makes a fantastic bean dip for parties, though," he concluded reasonably.

Isabelle frowned fiercely. "So, you're saying most of the major world religions were dreamed up by the same person showing up at different times in different bodies just to mess with people?"

"Swear to Gutenberg," he vowed seriously. She let the odd reference pass.

"That's terrible! People fight and die over religion. How could anyone do anything so horrible?" she cried fervently.

Lucas nodded in agreement, but said, "No one said it was right. He just has a twisted sense of humor. He's been strictly forbidden to do it anymore, though. And as penance he's been sentenced to live an entire lifetime as a regular human."

"Who is he?" she asked, curious in spite of herself. She figured he was just some normal guy she'd never heard of.

"Hugh Laurie," he laughed. "We should've known Chris would make the best of his punishment..."

"Why is his name Chris? That doesn't sound very lordly," she criticized.

"Well, his god-name is Cghene, but good luck getting worshipers to pronounce it. He loafed around Africa for a while before deciding to play some epic pranks on humanity in his other persona's. It's amazing how long it took for the Order to finally figure out all the chaos was his doing and nail him for it," he explained dryly.

"Who finally figured it out?" she asked reluctantly. It was inevitable that the name he would give would be familiar and she resigned herself to having her world split open just a little bit wider.

"Christian Bale."

"No!" she laughed.

To her surprise, he shook his head. "Nah, I'm only teasing. Christian's not good for anything much but being Batman these days. It was Jim Carrey."

She sighed and gave him an exasperated look. "You've _got_ to be joking!"

"How do you think he did all that stuff in The Mask?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

"So, are all of the members of the Order famous or something?" she asked skeptically.

Lucas quickly shook his head and smiled, leading her out of the enormous doors at the back of the library into yet another long, gloomy hallway. "Of course not. Many of them live in humble obscurity like me. Lots of the Others are famous, though."

"Like who?" she laughed.

He stopped outside of the third door on the far side of the hall from the Library and put his hand on the knob, looking up into the air as he thought for a moment. "Oh... The Beatles, Charlie Chaplain, Nostradamus, Adolf Hitler, The Buddha, Mao Asada, Josh Groban, the current PM of Canada and the entire Russian hockey team in 1980 just to name a few."

Her surprised giggle was cut short as he let her into an extensive laboratory. Wooden tables were arranged in a neat grid across the dark floor and the white walls were full of shelves crammed with books, bottles, specimens, and other equipment Isabelle could only guess at. Lucas pulled her forward, holding her a little closer than before because there were other people in this room. They wore white coats over their clothes and many were milling about looking in microscopes, checking clip boards, scribbling notes, and carefully mixing liquids, heedless of their arrival.

Lucas took a step forward before he was confronted by a very beautiful, very petite girl in a pink dress. Her honey-colored blonde hair extended almost all the way to the floor, and her perfect brows were pinched together in a worried frown. An incredibly handsome man stood behind her, looking just as distraught.

"Hello, Ariadne. How is your treatment going?" Lucas asked kindly.

The girl tried to respond but could only manage an odd glugging noise before a shower of precious stones dropped from her mouth into her hands. Pressing her lips tightly together, her eyes filled with tears and she turned and buried her face in the handsome man's chest.

"Not so well, then?" Lucas concluded in a disappointed voice. "Sorry. We'll get you sorted. Don't you worry."

He tugged Isabelle's hand, whispering for her not to stare as he rushed her away. "What was wrong with her?" she asked quietly once they were out of earshot.

"She did a good turn for a wicked faerie who showed her appreciation by putting a spell on her. Now jewels fall out of her mouth whenever she talks. Horrible. I can't see why anyone would think that would actually be a _good _thing, but it used to be a really desirable christening gift for princesses. Still, it wasn't too bad because most of them didn't have anything too interesting to say to begin with."

"That's terrible!" Isabelle scolded.

Lucas glanced at her and smiled. "I'm only joking."

They slowed to negotiate their way around a pair of people talking and Isabelle looked over to see an enormous glass tube against the closest wall. It looked like all it contained was water, but suddenly, bubbles began floating up to congeal at eye level. She started in surprise as a face formed, but was immediately pulled back on track by Lucas.

"There was a- a face!" she whispered in shock as she stared back over her shoulder. The bubble-thing seemed to be watching her with three webbed hands pressed against the glass.

Lucas pulled her closer to his side and leaned over her head to speak in a low voice. "Don't stare- he's doing us a special favor coming here."

Isabelle whipped forward, but couldn't help glancing up at him. "Is he... an ocean god or something?"

Without warning, Lucas popped off: "What is it with you humans? Always wanting to stick a label on everything. Can't just be a god or a spirit, no... they've got to be the God of the River. Spirit of the Forest! Archangel of Really, Really Tall Things! Honestly! Hera helps one woman get out of a sticky situation once and all of a sudden she's the Goddess of Women. Aphrodite and Eros too, they're just a couple of daft teenagers and all of a sudden they're the Gods of Love. Why can't you people just let the Others be themselves and cower in fear of them?"

Isabelle was completely taken aback by the tirade, but wasn't given a chance to respond. Lucas looked up and grinned as he made eye contact with someone. Isabelle followed his gaze to find a small man in a white lab coat coming toward them. He looked to be in his seventies, though he still had a full head of silvery hair that was parted neatly to the side. His ears were so big and pointed that the tops nearly flopped forward, reminding her sharply of Yoda. He wore a red bow tie and crisp white shirt under his coat and she realized as he reached them that he was the same height as she was, though he was thin as a rake. His brown eyes were warm and kind as he smiled at them.

"Ah, Lucas, how nice to see you," he greeted in a pleasant British accent.

"Hello Professor. I got the book for you," Lucas replied with a ready smile.

The man's wrinkled face crinkled into a smile as he took the red volume in his hands and returned his gaze to the pair. "I see that's not all you brought back. Who is your charming young friend, Lucas?"

He quickly made the necessary introductions and Isabelle looked between the two quizzically. She didn't want to be rude, but the old man had simply been introduced as The Professor. Was she supposed to believe that was his proper name?

As though he could read her thoughts, the old man smiled and reached out to take and pat her hand. "Just The Professor, dear. There's no need for any name beyond that. Everybody knows who I am."

"You mean like The Doctor in Doctor Who?" she asked bemusedly.

To her surprise, The Professor gave her a delighted grin and patted her hand sharply. "My, she's clever. We'd better be careful around her, Lucas, or she'll have all the secrets of the Order out of us before long."

"Sydney Newman and Russel T. Davies were two of our members," Lucas explained in a low voice. Isabelle bit her tongue. She didn't want to ask if The Professor was a Time Lord. In spite of everything she had heard, that seemed too outrageous. Besides, she was worried about what sort of answer she might receive.

Shuffling to a nearby table, The Professor gingerly laid the book on the wooden surface and turned to them with an enigmatic grin. "Well, children, who wants to see what happens when you collapse an inter-dimensional portal?"


	3. What if God was one of us?

Chapter 3

They stared at the wizened old man for a second before looking at one another. Lucas laughed and pulled her forward, beaming at the prospect. The Professor scooped up the book and turned, winding his way through the tables to a big, wooden door at the back of the laboratory. Isabelle felt a thrill of electricity pass over her skin as they entered yet _another_ cavernous room. It looked like something out of a science fiction movie, with a pentacle and several circles inlaid in the wood on the floor, complete with flickering candles and a low table full of strange artifacts.

"Hang on. Exactly how big is this place?" Isabelle finally asked the question that had been nagging her for the past few minutes. With the extensive ground she had covered since arriving, she just couldn't believe she'd been inside a single building the whole time.

"It's bigger on the inside," Lucas laughed good-naturedly, drawing her to the side of the room. For the first time, he dropped her hand before leaning in close. "Just stay right there, okay? We'll get everything ready."

She looked down to find that he had positioned her inside of one of the circles and she looked up to raise an eyebrow at him. Instead of asking one of the many questions plaguing her, however, she nodded mutely and watched as he walked away to begin preparations.

The first thing he did was get a pair of orange cones to put outside the door. Just in case the inter-dimensional portal collapsed creating a localized worm hole, she supposed. That way, they'd be the only ones who died just before it was able to collapse in on itself.

He and The Professor worked in tandem, putting out candles, oil, cloves, and incense. The Professor pulled a stethoscope from his pocket and listened intently to the cover of the book before nodding. He set it down on the floor in the middle of the pentacle beside a mirror and black candle. Lucas knelt down and made several strange markings on the inside ring of the circle with a thick piece of chalk. That done, he stood, wiping his hands together and looking critically around the room.

"I believe everything is in order here, Lucas," The Professor said quietly.

The young man nodded and they each headed to a protective circle. Lucas smiled after taking a place beside her, then turned his attention to The Professor, who was standing almost directly across from them. The room had been quiet before, but it seemed like the very walls were holding their breath as his thin arms raised up in the air, palms out toward the pentagram.

"Creature of paper and ink thou art,

Creature of flesh and blood you be.

I name you: Bue.

No more shall you do harm.

No more shall you ensnare the living.

No more shall you interfere in the lives of mortals on land or water.

By the power of the Gods and by my will, So mote it be!"

Nothing happened. Not a whisper. The Professor stood still for several moments, looking very fierce and imposing, before dropping his hands and glaring at the book. It remained sitting innocently in the middle of the pentacle. He stomped his foot. "Confound it, Bue! What do you think you're playing at?" he growled.

Without thinking, Isabelle took a step forward and her foot crossed the edge of the circle. Lucas threw out his arm, shouting, "No!" but the damage was already done. Of its own volition, the book lazily flipped open, turning to the very middle page. She could see a detailed illustration of the universe, the ink so deep and dark it almost seemed as though the stars and planets really _were_ shining.

"Get back!" The Professor thundered.

Pressure crashed down, making them feel as though the room were suddenly miles under water. An eerie wind stirred, whipping around the room with the force of a million whispers. Isabelle fought an insistent tug behind her belly button as the whirlwind focused on her, drawing her forward. To keep from falling, she took another step outside the circle, then tried to dig her heels in. The wind pulled harder and she threw out her hands for balance as she went up on tiptoe.

Lucas grabbed her arm, hauling her backwards out of the eddying cyclone for an instant. Bracing his feet wide, he wrapped his arms around her waist just before the tornado caught them up with a vengeance. The wind tore at their hair and clothes, drawing them inextricably forward. Invisible hands worked at Lucas' fingers, tugging them apart, breaking his hold.

With a scream, Isabelle slipped away. Lucas lunged forward and caught hold of her by her wrist, clinging to her with both hands. She stared at him, terrified, as her feet left the ground. He gritted his teeth and pulled, causing her to cry out in pain. "Hang on!"

Inexplicably, time seemed to slow and the screaming torrent was muted, as though someone had put mufflers put over her ears. Isabelle realized she felt less like a windsock in a hurricane and more like a ribbon in a lazy stream. She glanced over her shoulder and saw the book, it's pages stirring in slow motion around a blinding, red ball of light. With a start, she realized it was a hole. A golden tipped, clawed hand reached up to clutch the edge, tightening to pull up whatever was attached to it.

A low rumble like a raging stampede reverberated up inside her, starting from her feet and sweeping through her body. Her toes touched the floor and she half turned, raising an imperious eyebrow at the clawed hand. A voice that wasn't her own ripped calmly from her throat with terrible authority. "Stop."

Time paused, then crashed back to normal. Isabelle fell forward onto the floor. With effort, she pushed herself up on her hands and saw Lucas, who had been thrown several feet away and was sitting against the wall, rubbing the back of his head. She turned to find The Professor standing exactly where he had been before, staring at the floor. The book had a hole charred through its core and was smoking quietly beneath his gaze.

"Well, that's one way to kill a god," The Professor's wry voice broke through the silence.

"Isabelle, what did you do?" Lucas asked, surging to his feet and sprinting toward her.

She stared between them in shock. "I- nothing! That wasn't me! I didn't-"

"Perhaps we had better take a closer look at your new friend, Lucas," The Professor mused as the younger man leaned down to help her to her feet. In a daze, Isabelle allowed Lucas to scoop her up in his arms and follow The Professor out of the room. Several people had gathered outside, concerned by the sounds they had heard. They followed to crowd around as Lucas placed her gently on an empty table. The next hour was filled with blips, scans, pokes, prods, and various other tests Isabelle didn't understand. Though everyone continued to reassure her that everything was fine, the tests became increasingly extensive and their faces grew progressively more pensive.

"I just don't understand it," The Professor finally announced, exasperated. He held a plastic tube several inches away from her face and pressed a button to make a quiet buzzing noise. "You're not special. You're not talented or important. You're clever, certainly, but only by human standards. Why would Bue choose you?"

Isabelle did her best not to get offended by the glib pronouncement of her mediocrity, but couldn't help frowning at the old man. He caught the look and smiled apologetically as he stashed the tube in his breast pocket. "I'm sorry, my dear, but I'm afraid Lucas may not have told you the whole truth about Bue. You see, there are some things we even keep from our agents, so Lucas wasn't given the whole story. As he might have told you, Bue is unreasonably particular when it comes to his victims. Along with needing to be a young, female virgin, she also needs to possess some kind of power. So you see, in order for him to come after you, there'd have to be some sort of Other-force flowing in your veins, drawing him out. All of the tests come back negative, but Lucas and I both saw you destroy the portal."

"Is she possessed?" a middle-aged woman with frizzy red hair asked, leaning in to peer into Isabelle's eyes.

"Perhaps she acts as some sort of conduit," another observer suggested.

"Could she be a god masking her powers?"

"I'm not any of those things!" Isabelle cried, jumping down off the table and pushing her way through the crowd. Unaccustomed to being the center of such savage curiosity, she felt overwhelmed. Panicked. She ran, not caring where she was going but desperate to get away. She flew out the laboratory doors and into the Library, racing along the rows before turning in to one at random. Reaching a dead end, she huddled under the window, gasping for breath.

Soft footsteps approached and she turned her face into the wall, trying to hide her tears. "Are you all right, Isabelle?" Lucas asked softly.

"I'm sorry I ran away. I just got a little overwhelmed," she whispered breathlessly.

Lucas knelt in front of her and reached over her shoulder to rub her back. "It's okay. You've had a lot happen today. Frankly, I'm surprised you've done so well. Most people just can't handle it. And sometimes the members forget that it's hard to have all this thrown on you at once."

She lifted her head and gave him a heartbroken look. "Is something wrong with me?"

"No, not at all," he grinned encouragingly. "You're perfect! Absolutely fine. Better than that: You're something no one's seen before. You're unique."

"I don't want to be unique! I'm just a girl. I work in a book shop. I don't want to be a lab rat," she cried burying her face in her arms.

Lucas shook his head and pushed back her hair, cajoling her not to worry. "No more tests. I promise. Why don't we get you a nice cup of hot cocoa? Would that help?"

Sniffing, she let him take her by the hand and lead her out of the Library. A few minutes later, they arrived in a spacious kitchen. There were no less than four stoves with cupboards, grills, ovens and plenty of other cooking equipment crammed in. Lucas had her take a seat at one of five tables and moved to make the cocoa, returning promptly with two steaming mugs and a plate of sandwiches. Her stomach grumbled and she suddenly realized that dinner had been hours away. She dug in, feeling marginally better as she ate and sipped the hot cocoa.

He gave her a knowing look before they both began chuckling. "I'm glad you're feeling better. I'm really sorry everyone scared you so much."

"Maybe I overreacted," she hedged. She was a little uncomfortable with the way he was regarding her so warmly. Fondly. Redirecting her gaze to her cup, she thought furiously for something to say that would divert his attention. "So, I guess the book got burned anyway."

His lips quirked into an easy, familiar smile and his brown eyes twinkled. "It did. Did I manage to convince you that some books aren't worth saving?"

"You're a nutter," she replied, then blushed. "Honestly, Lucas, you've told me so much today that I don't know what to think."

"It's all true," he defended simply.

She turned her head to look out the window and saw that the horizon was a hazy silver, lightening gradually with the first rays of dawn. She could barely believe she had only been here a few hours. It felt like days. Finally, she looked back at him and admitted, "I still find it hard to believe that every book ever written was true."

"At least in some way," he conceded with a nod. "Are you about ready to go home?"

Her stomach dropped at the question. "You're going to take me home? Just like that?"

"What else did you think? This wasn't a kidnapping, Isabelle," he chuckled.

"But I thought-" she stopped. What _had _she thought? She realized that at some point she had figured she'd be staying with him. He had shared the secrets about the Order so easily. Did he just trust her not to say anything? A pang resonated in her chest. It was more than that. She really _liked_ Lucas. More than she had ever liked anyone. "I just thought I'd be staying with you. You said I was special."

He grinned again. As if nothing was wrong. "You _are_ special, Isabelle. But you're not a member of the Order. You're a human. You can't stay here. Besides, you have your whole life to go back to."

"You say that like you're not human," she protested. He raised an eyebrow at her. "Well, you _look _human."

"_Half_-human," he admitted, raising his hand. He snapped his fingers and his entire arm suddenly burst into flame. She jerked back and he smiled, extinguishing the fire with his other hand. For some reason, tears crowded her eyes. She blinked rapidly to keep them at bay. "You wouldn't want to stay here anyway, Isabelle. It's not the kind of life you think. It's dangerous. You're expected to work hard and lay your life on the line and no one even knows if you die. Your life is simple. Uncomplicated."

"I suppose I should be grateful," she said glibly.

"_Yes._ You should," he breathed fervently, reaching for her hands. She pulled away and put them in her lap, staring numbly at the table. Missing the pain that crossed his eyes. "Isabelle, you have the gift of a normal life. You don't have to worry about demons eating babies or the world coming to an end. You think about things like laundry and shopping. It's fantastic! To be normal- what a gift that is!"

She frowned at him, resenting his argument and the way he seemed to believe it. "I'd like to go home now."

Lucas swallowed and nodded, but she missed his distressed look. By the time she looked up, his face was as cheerful as ever. She suddenly thought he must be very heartless. Standing next to the table, he held out his hand to her. She ignored it and rose, but he wiggled his fingers insistently. "You have to hold on to me for the power to work on both of us," he told her.

Reluctantly, she took his hand and he rummaged in his satchel for _The_ _Time Machine._ As he read the words, she felt her heart sinking, realizing he was serious. He was going to take her home, and she'd never see him again. She felt betrayed. Hurt. Devastated was more the word. As the room dissolved into gray pudding, Lucas suddenly pulled her forward into his arms, holding her tightly as he leaned his cheek against her hair. She closed her eyes as wind and hail swirled around them and leaned in to the embrace. For some reason, she felt connected to him. Like they had an understanding. Like they belonged together. Though she was hurt, she couldn't bring herself to be mad at him.

"I know you don't believe me, but I'm trying to keep you _safe, _Isabelle," he whispered urgently. Then he was kissing her. His lips were warm and soft moving gently against hers and her bowels turned to hot water as she reached up to frame his face in her hands. The cold and wind abated, but neither noticed as they clung to each other. The telephone rang, shattering the tender moment, and Isabelle broke away with a gasp, trembling lightly under his intense gaze. They were in her bedroom, flooded by the harsh light of day.

Lucas let out a low groan as he leaned his face into her profile. "I should go."

"You don't have to," she whispered painfully. She turned back to press her forehead against his and she clung to him as tears pricked her eyes. "Please don't leave, Lucas."

The telephone rang once more, clamoring for attention and her father shouted her name from somewhere in the house. Isabelle squeezed her eyes closed, willing it to go away. Willing the real world to fade so that she could stay with him just a moment longer.

"Goodbye, Isabelle," he murmured softly. Catching her chin in his hand, he kissed her hard.

"Isabelle!" her father bellowed from downstairs.

Lucas wrenched away from her and she let out a hoarse cry as he stepped back and dodged out the window. She ran to look, but he was already fading. He was gone. As if he'd never been there. Leaving her with nothing but a painful lump in her chest.

She jumped as someone hammered on her door and the phone screeched again. "Isabelle, get that damn telephone!"

"All right!" she shouted back. She grabbed the phone from its cradle and lifted it to her ear. "Hello?"

"Isabelle where are you?" her mother howled over the line. "We've been waiting lunch for you for _twenty minutes!_"

Isabelle furrowed her brow in confusion. "What are you talking about, mum? It's Saturday."

"Very funny, Isabelle. You know very well it's Sunday. And you _knew _I was inviting Enrique over for lunch today. I don't understand why you're doing this to me, Isabelle," she cried tearfully.

"I'm on my way," she sighed. Dropping the phone back in its cradle, she kicked off her socks and ran for the door. Glancing in the mirror at the bathroom, she decided she looked okay and pelted down the stairs. "Dad! I'm going to mum's!"

"Tell her to go to hell!" he shouted from the parlor.

Isabelle rolled her eyes, slipping her feet into a pair of silver ballet slippers in the entryway and grabbing her coat before flying out the door. Her mother lived in an upscale apartment downtown and Isabelle practically ran has she hurried down the street to meet with her. She was out of breath ten minutes later when she finally reached the flat and pressed the button.

"It's about time!" her mother snapped over the intercom, buzzing her in.

Isabelle pushed open the door and entered the lobby, calling the lift and leaning against the wall with her hand against her chest, trying to catch her breath. What had happened? She had only been gone for a few hours, but she had somehow missed a whole day! Where did Saturday go? Why didn't anyone miss her?

She reached her mother's floor within a minute and stopped to brush at her hair down, remove her coat, and daub sweat from her forehead. Closing her eyes to prepare herself, she plastered a smile across her face and knocked on the door. Almost immediately it was wrenched open by a tall, thin woman in her early forties. Marian Torch was quite pretty, even with the tiny wrinkles under her eyes, and her make up was done expertly. Her blonde hair curled just like her daughter's but her face was marred by an ugly sneer as she glared down at Isabelle.

"Where've you been?" she quietly snarled as she stood back to let her daughter in. "I can't believe you'd be so selfish. Are you _trying _to mess this up for me?"

Isabelle hugged her and smiled, ignoring the acerbic outburst. "It's nice to see you, mum. Sorry I'm late."

"Oh, _you're_ sorry," she echoed sarcastically as she shut the door and followed the girl down the hallway. "And what the hell are you wearing, Isabelle? You look like a whore."

Isabelle's cheeks flamed, but she refused to acknowledge the accusation. She was suddenly, painfully aware that she didn't have a bra, but the dress hung only low enough to show a modest amount of cleavage. Nothing too scandalous. "I look fine. Just drop it, mum, okay?"

Her mother pulled up short. Isabelle never defended herself. It made her angry. "Well... that's a fine way to speak to your mother. Here I am, worried sick that you're late and you turn up looking like _that _and you bite my head off. I'll just keep my opinions to myself from now on."

"Right, mum," Isabelle replied vaguely. They entered the kitchen and Isabelle raised her eyebrows at the handsome young Latino man lounging at the table. He wore a black button down shirt and black pants, reminding Isabelle strongly of a club bar tender. His black hair was frozen in place by what had to be handfuls of putty and he raised a well-shaped eyebrow at the ladies as they entered the room. Her mother instantly transformed from a middle-aged shrew to a giggling school girl as she crossed the room to take his hand.

"Enrique, this is my daughter, Isabelle," she tittered without looking at her daughter. She was too busy staring deeply into his dark, sultry eyes.

Isabelle couldn't help feeling as though the man was laughing at her as he reached to take her hand and brought it to his lips. "No, Querida, this couldn't possibly be your _daughter. _A younger sister, perhaps?" he asked in a smooth, thick accent.

Her mother giggled uproariously and Isabelle pulled her hand away, a cold pit building in her stomach. "No, I'm her daughter. I'm sorry to keep you waiting."

"Ah, it is no trouble, Dulcita," he crooned. His sweetness was starting to make her uncomfortable. So was the intense way he was watching her.

"All right! Let's sit down and get to know each other," her mother announced excitedly. She was always this way with a new boyfriend. It was like she was star struck, but it never lasted. Isabelle took her seat and tried to mind her own business as she ate the tepid meal and her mother flirted shamelessly, blatantly ignoring her. She had met Enrique at the gym and they had been sleeping together for nearly three weeks. It was a stark contrast from her daughter, who at twenty had just received her first kiss.

"So, what is it you do, Dulcita? Do you go to college?" Enrique suddenly asked. He leveled her with an amused smile as he tenderly rubbed the inside of her mother's thigh.

"I work at a book shop in the old part of town," Isabelle replied uncomfortably.

"She's not smart enough for college," her mother filled in. "The problem with Isabelle is that she never tried hard enough in school. She was always far more interested in her _books _and writing. Like she was better than everyone else."

"What is it that you write, Dulcita?" Enrique asked. Keen interest shone in his eyes.

Isabelle shrugged. "Not much. Short stories and poetry. That sort of thing."

"I'd love to see them," he told her sincerely.

"He's just being polite," her mother covered impatiently. She wasn't used to her boyfriends caring so much about her daughter. She didn't like it. "You don't want to listen to that rubbish, Ricky, dear."

"I don't have anything with me," Isabelle hedged.

"You could write something now," Enrique insisted, ignoring them both. Maybe it was her imagination, but it seemed as though his eyes were changing color. They looked like hot coals. He caught her hand in a crushing grip and leaned forward. "Why don't you? I'd _love _to read something right now."

"Let go of my hand," Isabelle ordered in a hard voice.

"Ricky, what's gotten into you?" Marian demanded tearfully.

His hot eyes glanced at her imperiously before returning to her daughter's face. "Shut up."

"Ricky!"

"Let go of me!" Isabelle shouted. She wrenched her hand back and stared in surprise when his hand came with it, still clutching hers painfully. He grinned at her shocked look before grimacing fiercely. Bones sprouted from the stump, forming a skeletal hand that clacked as it flexed. Isabelle scrambled back. "Get away from him, mum!"

"What the hell is this?" Marian shrieked. "Ricky! You're hand!"

With a feral grin, the man flipped the table to the side, his eyes locked on Isabelle as he stalked forward. Seeing nothing for it, Isabelle pelted toward the window, throwing it open and scrambling out onto the fire escape. The man was hard on her heels as she spun around the ladder and slid down. Her stomach dropped as he jumped after her. The force of the pavement jarred her painfully, but she fought to remain upright as she turned to run. She could hear the man coming after her and she dodged as best she could, amazed she could keep ahead of him.

There was a sudden rush of air and she instinctively dropped to the ground. A car sailed over her head and crashed into a building on the far side of the street, it's alarm screeching wildly. Without looking, Isabelle scrambled forward, racing around a corner just as a mail bin flew by her. She darted up the steps of the closest building, staring in surprise. She was in the public library. How lucky was that?

"Not lucky at all," she whispered to herself, dodging between the stacks. She didn't have any powers. These books were just books. They couldn't help her.

The bookshelves behind her exploded and she screamed as she fell forward onto her hands and knees. Twisting around, she stared in horror as Enrique stepped through the wreckage. His handsome face and swarthy skin was mangled, hanging uselessly from the protruding bones that seemed to have engorged themselves. A maniacal grin literally stretched off his face as turned toward her. "I found you!" he crooned in a hoarse voice.

"Who are you?" she shouted. "What do you want?"

Thunder seemed to rumble around them as he answered in a harsh, grating voice. "I am Mictlantecuhtli and you, Chiquilla, have the power to restore my empire! I will feast on the blood of the living once more!"

He leaned down to reach for her and she closed her eyes, cringing away. She thought furiously for _something _that could help her, but the only thing that sprang to mind was a book. She had read _Searching for Dragons _by Patricia Wrede in primary school. In the book, the King of the Enchanted Forest had seen magic as threads of power that he could manipulate in order to make things happen. With her eyes shut tight, she reached out and mentally pulled. Silence.

Isabelle peeked open a single eye and saw an enormous gray moth fluttering among the dust motes. She stared as it hovered over her for a moment before spinning in circles and flying away. She exhaled. "I did it?"

"_What have you done?!?_" a tortured voice shrieked.

Isabelle threw herself back as the ground began to shudder. A bony, skeletal figure burst through the floor. Long, stringy hair cascaded over the luminescent bones of the hunched figure and she stared after the moth before rounding on Isabelle with glowing red eyes. "What have you done to my husband?" she screamed.

"You're husband?" Isabelle gasped, falling backwards over a pile of books.

"_I'll eat your heart!_" the hag swore. She lunged at Isabelle, her hands extended. Each finger was tipped with razor sharp gold talons.

Isabelle dove out of the way and worked to concentrate. I just need to pull... An enormous book case toppled over on the specter, but she burst through the obstacle and slashed at the young girl, catching her in the shoulder. Isabelle screamed in pain and rolled to the side, clutching the useless arm.

"_I'll bathe in your blood!" _

"Come on, Isabelle," she murmured to herself. She dashed around the corner and ran down the isle, fighting panic as countless bookshelves crashed behind her. It was gaining! She reached the end of the building and turned, back to the wall, wheezing heavily and feeling light headed from her injury. "What do you _need?_"

Lucas' face swam before her mind's eye and without thinking she reached out and pulled. The building trembled, knocking her forward on her hands and knees once more. She looked up to see an enraged skull looming above her and her heart fell. He wasn't going to save her.

"I found you," she crooned, echoing her husband's earlier sentiments.

"So have I," a gruff voice called behind the creature's back. The skeleton made to turn, but screamed as she was sliced in half. The bones exploded into powder and Isabelle stared at the enormous, curved sword that had buried itself in the wood floor. Looking up its length, she gaped at Lucas, gripping the weapon resolutely and looking for all the world like a fierce warrior.

She tried to push herself up, but her body felt as though it had turned into raw meat and she collapsed to the floor. Lucas' concerned face swam before her eyes. His voice echoed cheerfully through the darkness just before she lost consciousness. "I can't leave you alone for a minute, can I?"


	4. A fickle pickle

Chapter 4

Isabelle woke some time later feeling warm and fuzzy. She groaned and rubbed her face into the soft pillow before opening her eyes. It took her a moment to realize she was in a room she had never seen before. It looked like it had been born directly from the mind of Antonio Gaudi, full of fluid lines and no hard edges. Pushing herself up, she registered and intense ache in her right shoulder. Looking down, she found that she had apparently been bathed and dressed in a short-sleeved linen nightgown. Her shoulder was wrapped in heavy bandages.

The door opened and a petite little girl let herself in. She had long, chestnut hair and an impish face and was wearing what appeared to be deep purple robes. Her bright green eyes conveyed shock when she caught Isabelle looking at her and she dropped the tray in her hands with a soft "Oh!"

"I'm sorry," Isabelle quickly apologized. She tried to get out of bed, but felt the room spin when she stood and had to sit back down.

"Don't trouble yourself, miss," the little girl waved her back. "You weren't supposed to wake for several more hours."

Isabelle fought a wave of lightheadedness and put her head in her hand. "How could you know when I'd wake up?" she asked weakly.

"Lucas is very good with his potions, miss. He mixed yours himself," the girl explained, straightening. "My name is Melina. You can call me Mel."

In spite of her aching head, she smiled. "Hello Mel. I'm Isabelle. Are you Lucas's sister?"

The girl's face became a thundercloud and she stared at her as though she had just said a very nasty word. "Hardly. I'm three hundred years older than the boy. Besides, I'm an _elf_."

Isabelle felt her face heat and she bit her lip. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you."

The girl's fierce gaze softened somewhat and she moved to put the tray on the bedside table. It was crowded with gauze, scissors, a bowl of warm water, and several bottles of various colored liquid. Briskly, Mel reached over and tugged Isabelle's nightgown down to get at her bandaged shoulder. Isabelle fought the hear rising to her face at the sudden, brusque loss of modesty. She snipped away the gauze and Isabelle looked down to see four angry wounds running from her back around her bicep, just nicking the petite swell of her breast.

"Mictecacihuatl has scorpion poison in her claws," Mel announced suddenly. She plunged a soft cloth into the warm water and began scrubbing mercilessly at the sores.

"Who?" Isabelle gasped in confusion. The girl's hands were surprisingly strong and she felt as though she was being attacked by a sandblaster.

"Mictecacihuatl. The _goddess_," she elaborated impatiently. She began smearing liberal amounts of the potions on her raw scabs. "You know- the bone lady. Her and her husband were worshiped as Gods of the Underworld by the Aztecs. Nasty pair to have as enemies, I'll tell you that. They're not that much fun as friends, mind..."

"Why were they after me?" Isabelle asked timidly.

Mel shrugged as she began efficiently re-wrapping her shoulder. "How should I know? I'm just here to tend your wounds. It would be best if you went back to sleep, though. You'll heal faster."

"I'd like to see Lucas, please," she replied nervously. The petite woman glared at her as she stepped back, piling the soiled cloths on the tray. Isabelle pushed herself up to stand and swayed lightly as the floor buckled under her feet.

"Sit down!" Mel snapped. "I'll bring him here, if you're so determined!"

Isabelle sank back down in relief and watched her leave the room. She sat still for a moment, feeling drained, before gathering the energy to push herself back against the headboard. Leaning back with a sigh, she closed her eyes, stretching her toes. She had nearly drifted off to sleep when the door opened. With tremendous effort, she opened her eyes and smiled as Lucas approached the bed.

"You should be sleeping," he scolded pleasantly as he sat beside her and took her hand. "How do you feel?"

She squeezed his hand weakly, pulling it into her lap to hold between both of her palms and ignoring the question. She felt like she had just given birth through her shoulder, but he didn't need to know that. It would only worry him. "Are we back at Headquarters?"

"Yes. I couldn't very well take you back to your mum's house," he replied.

"How'd you know where I was?" she asked curiously.

Lucas raised an eyebrow at her and reached forward to push her hair behind her shoulder, fingering it thoughtfully. She closed her eyes. "I'm magic. Remember?"

"And you're using your powers to stalk me?" she croaked humorously. His fingers moved from her hair to tenderly brush her bruised cheek. She leaned into the contact.

"I can't think of anything better to use them for," he smiled. "Are you thirsty?"

She nodded and opened her eyes, feeling inexplicably content. With a clever grin, Lucas held out his hand and a delicate stone cup suddenly blossomed out of his palm. He gathered all five fingers from his other hand over the lip and water trickled down to be caught in the bowl of the cup. "You are _very_ good," she chuckled as she reached for it.

His eyes sparkled at the compliment. She finished drinking and returned it, but he simply placed it on the nightstand. "You can keep it."

Touched, Isabelle leaned forward and put her hand around the back of his neck, kissing him tenderly. At first he pulled back in surprise, but he quickly recovered and threaded his hands through her hair, which floated up from her shoulders as though someone had switched off the gravity. Her head was spinning by the time the door opened and they jerked back sheepishly. A handsome man who bore a striking resemblance to Lucas leaned against the door, a single brow raised as he leered at them in amusement. He wore a red sweater over a striped blue and white shirt with black slacks and socks. He had the same brown hair as Lucas, but it was longer and parted at the side. He had no glasses, but their affable brown eyes were identical and his were taking in the scene with great amusement.

"Well, _this_ is an interesting development. If I had known that this was the reason you went haring off during our training, Luke, I might've come after you sooner," the older man chuckled.

"Ha ha," Lucas said humorlessly. "Very funny, Demetri. It's not like I _meant _to leave. It just... happened. I don't know how. Isabelle, this is my brother, Demetri."

Although she had suspected as much, Isabelle still felt shocked. Somehow, she had never guessed that Lucas would have family. From what she had seen of Lucas and his brother, she hoped his was more pleasant than hers. Demetri approached the bed and took her hand, smiling warmly. "It's nice to meet you, Isabelle."

"Nice to meet you, Demetri," she replied a bit shyly. She was uncomfortably aware that she was in her pajamas and had been caught smooching his brother. It was as if something sacred and secret between her and Lucas had been exposed and she couldn't help feeling self-conscious.

"Oh, Daisy's gonna love her," Demetri announced in amusement. "How do you feel about coming to get a bite to eat, Isabelle?"

"Sure," she laughed. She swung her feet to the side of the bed, but Lucas stopped her before she could get up, leaning down to push some fluffy house socks onto her feet. She blushed when he looked up to grin at her, feeling oddly touched. Straightening, he caught her under the elbows and helped her to stand, holding her close as the room swam around them.

"You okay?" he asked gently.

"I might need a little help," she admitted in a soft voice.

Carefully, he released her and turned his back, crouching and looking over his shoulder. "Hop on. I'll carry you."

She giggled, but lifted the hem of her nightgown until it was hitched over her knees and climbed on his back. For some reason, everything seemed _allowed _with Lucas. Like there wasn't anything she couldn't or _shouldn_'t do. Where she would have felt mortified in the real world, she eagerly followed his lead with each new idea. Securely wrapping her arms around his neck, though her bandaged shoulder screamed in protest, she leaned her head against his shoulders, feeling slightly dizzy, as he rose and set off after his brother.

It seemed to take no time at all for them to reach a small, warm living area. Isabelle took in the homey touches and well-worn furniture, including an upright piano, before a lovely older woman with blonde hair caught in a ponytail came in. Her eyes were cinnamon colored under a thin fringe of bangs and she gave the trio a friendly smile as she noticed them.

"Boys! What are you doing here?" she asked in a delighted, soft voice.

Demetri moved forward to kiss her cheek and Lucas did the same before answering. "Hello, mum. We were wondering if we'd be able to catch some dinner."

"Is this your friend, Lucas?" she asked in amusement as her eyes met Isabelle's over her son's shoulder.

"This is Isabelle, Mum," he volunteered softly as he backed up and allowed his burden to slide into a squashy chair near the piano. He took a seat on the arm and smiled tenderly down at her as she hastily pushed the skirt of her nightgown down.

"It's nice to meet you, Isabelle," the woman smiled, just like her sons.

Isabelle greeted her shyly. She was spared any awkward questions when a small girl with long blonde hair came skipping in, squealing in delight when she spotted the boys. She launched her small body at them, hugging them fiercely and shooting off question after question before suddenly freezing, having caught sight of Isabelle.

Moving forward to grasp the girl by her shoulders, their mother leaned over and said, "Daisy, this is Lucas' friend Isabelle. Say hello."

The chattery child stared at her with enormous cinnamon eyes as she whispered, almost inaudibly, "Hello."

"She's a little shy," their mother explained. "My name is Irene, by the way, and my husband Freeman will be home any time now. If you can wait, we can all have dinner together as soon as he gets here."

Isabelle quickly agreed and Irene retreated through one of four doorways leading farther into the family's personal living quarters. Demetri followed her, offering to lend a hand with dinner while Lucas took a seat at the piano. He played a few notes of a song, looking over his shoulder at his little sister until she grinned and joined him. Isabelle watched in awe as he played and sang for her, drawing her out of her shyness until she was bouncing and clapping and giggling recklessly. He seemed to have that affect on people.

Lucas' father arrived and stood behind Isabelle's chair, fondly watching the hijinks of his two youngest children. Isabelle felt his presence and glanced up, only to have the eerily familiar smile aimed at her. The man eagerly returned his gaze to the pair at the piano and they were soon joined by the rest of the family. Demetri announced that dinner was ready and they all piled into the kitchen around a rough wooden table. They made a brief introduction as Lucas settled Isabelle into the chair beside his and reached to hold her hand. The parents exchanged surprised looks before beginning the meal. Irene had prepared a delicious stew and they shared much conversation and laughter while they ate.

Isabelle had never experienced anything like it. Her parents couldn't behave around _her_, let alone each other, and she had thought families such as this had only existed on television. Everyone seemed to enjoy one another and they even worked to include her in the conversation.

"So, Isabelle, how have you been making out with our boy?" Freeman asked amicably. Though he bore the same striking features the rest of the men of the family had, his eyes were light blue and his hair was nearly black.

Isabelle felt her face flame when Demetri chuckled at the double entendre and she shrugged, casting a shy glance at Lucas over her spoon. "They're making out _very_ well, dad," Demetri filled in saucily.

Their parents exchanged a glance, but Freeman quickly asked, "So what is it you do, Isabelle?"

"I work in a book shop," she replied shyly.

"That's brilliant!" Freeman responded enthusiastically. "Are they all new books or used?"

"Mr. Giles specializes in rare books." Isabelle was shocked. If anyone bothered to ask what she did, they always treated her response with polite indifference.

"You'll have to excuse Freeman, dear," Irene broke in gently. "He works in the Library Archives, so he gets a little more excited about books than most people."

True to form, Isabelle was peppered with questions for the next several minutes. Standing and taking his empty bowl and Isabelle's, Lucas finally broke the line of questioning. "Dinner was fantastic, mum. I'll take care of the dishes tonight," he volunteered.

Isabelle was provided with a cup of hot tea and a large chunk of cake while Lucas cleared the table. She had never seen a man do chores before and was surprised by Lucas' willingness to help out, although it didn't seem out of character for him. Once the men had left and her daughter was settled with her own cake, Irene came to sit beside Isabelle with a steaming cup of tea.

"Is your shoulder hurting you too much, dear?" she asked kindly.

"A little," she admitted. She didn't know how the older woman had known, but she didn't feel right lying when she heard the concern in her voice.

Setting aside her cup and throwing the girl a mysterious smile, she said, "Come with me. I know just the thing."

To her surprise, "just the thing" was actually a bath. Irene settled the younger woman in a frothing bubble bath after expertly unwrapping the bandages. "Make sure it gets over the wounds. It will help it heal."

Isabelle hunched down so the water came up to her neck. Her shoulder stung quite a bit, but not so much that she couldn't stand it. After a few moments, the pain became numbing. "We were very surprised when Lucas brought you home, my dear. We aren't used to him spending much personal time with girls."

Isabelle opened her eyes to find the older woman sitting on the side of the tub, regarding her with keen interest. She was glad for the bubbles and the hot water, because her warm blush didn't seem _that_ obvious. She didn't know what to say, so she just smiled.

Irene seemed to understand her silence and quickly pressed on. "Lucas is a charming boy. He's always been very happy. People are drawn to him, but he doesn't let them get too close. Even when he was younger, he kept mostly to himself. I want you to know this just in case there's nothing special about what he feels for you. My son is a lot of things, but I don't want you to confuse his friendliness with intimacy. Other girls have done that before and only gotten their hearts broken. Have you ever read the book _Peter Pan_?"

Isabelle nodded.

"Well, he's kind of like that. All energy and adventure and fire. He can be wonderful and terrible at the same time. And very occasionally, when it comes to emotions, he can be heartless. He takes after his father, in that way. It took Freeman almost three years to figure out I was flirting with him. Lucas doesn't see things the way most young men do. He's not all about sex and sports and drills. He's _very _clever, and certainly one of the most talented members of the Order, but he struggles to understand matters of the heart."

Isabelle was at a loss for words, but Irene went on without waiting for a response. "I'm telling you this, dear, so you know what to expect. I love my son, but he's far from perfect. He can be completely oblivious to others' feelings, though he doesn't mean to be. I'm not blind, dear, I can see the way you look at him. But you two come from very different worlds and you are _very_ different people. I just don't want you to get hurt if it turns out he doesn't feel the same way you do."

"I'll keep that in mind," Isabelle replied softly. She wondered if she should tell Irene about the fact that he had kissed her, but dismissed the idea quickly as her attention was caught by something else. Hope suddenly blossomed in her chest. "Wait, does that mean I'll be staying here?"

"We can't very well send you back with gods going after you," Irene explained. "We may not understand what's going on, but you'll be safe as houses while you're with us. And that will give us the benefit of time to figure out this puzzle."

Isabelle smiled and there was a soft tap on the door. Lucas stuck his head in and raised his eyebrows. A silent message seemed to pass between the two and Irene gave her a compassionate smile before vacating the room. Lucas took her place and Isabelle covered her breasts with her hands under the bubbles, submerging herself to her nose as she peeked up at him shyly.

"How are you feeling?" he asked brightly. He seemed completely unperturbed by her nakedness, lending truth to his mother's warning that he could be oblivious to some things. She remained timidly hidden under the water and he grinned. "Okay? Did you have a good conversation with my mother?"

She shrugged and he couldn't help but laugh. "Do you want me to leave before you drown yourself?"

Her nod sent him to his feet. He leaned over her to kiss her forehead, his brown eyes dancing with amusement. As he turned to the door, she submerged entirely, allowing herself to float lazily in the warm water. Her face and shoulders seemed to sting and a cool tingle danced over her skin, raising goosebumps on her flesh. Her shoulder didn't feel too bad anymore, but she had a lot to think about. Lucas' family was fantastic, but his mother's warning had caught her off guard. Did he really care about her or was she reading too much into his friendly personality? What about the kisses? He had kissed her twice and allowed her to kiss him. But hadn't he been surprised when she kissed him? Was she different? Special? How long was she going to stay here? What would her family think? What about Mr. Giles and her job?

Her lungs started burning, so she surfaced and took in a deep breath before reaching up to wipe the water and suds from her eyes. She had completely forgotten about her job; her parents. Was her mother okay? How was she handling her boyfriend attacking her daughter then having them both disappear? What would her father do without her there? Would he even notice? Feeling miserable, she pushed herself out of the tub and quickly dried off with one of the many fluffy towels stacked on a shelf.

Her reflection in the mirror brought her up short. The bruises on her cheek and shoulder from her father were completely gone. The angry wounds on her shoulder had shrunk and were now nothing more than dark purple scabs. She figured that had something to do with the poison and wondered if she would end up with scars. Foregoing bandages, she dressed in the nightgown and pulled on her socks, wrapping her hair with a towel. She peeked into the darkened hallway, but no one was in sight. Pausing, she looked up and down, seeing a series of closed doors at one end and the light from the kitchen at the other.

Daisy screamed with laughter as she burst into the hallway, chased closely by Demetri. He quickly caught her up in his arms and ran past Isabelle, tickling the little girl mercilessly. "That doesn't _sound_ like putting your sister to bed!" Irene scolded from one of the distant rooms of the apartment.

"You all finished?" Lucas asked from beside her. She jumped and looked up to find him leaning against the wall smiling down at her. She nodded and he caught her hand, leading her in the direction of the closed doors. They entered a room lit by the moonlight from two enormous windows and a small lamp on the bedside table. The room was crowded with four bookshelves, a dresser, a wardrobe, and a desk that sat between the windows. A single bed took up one wall and a pillow and sleeping bag had been laid out on the floor beside it.

"Is this your room?" Isabelle asked shyly, turning to look at him.

"It is, so no poking around," he teased. Without warning, he drew her close and kissed her, pulling the towel from her hair and cradling the back of her head in his hand. She felt as though she had been dunked back in the warm bath as she brought up her hands to rest on his chest. She was swiftly getting used to open, frequent affection, though she had never experienced much of it before.

After several moments, he pulled back and leaned his forehead against hers, smiling down at her with a sigh as he reached up and twirled her hair around his finger. She stared in surprise as she realized her hair was completely dry. "What did you do?"

He only grinned enigmatically, taking her hand and pulling her toward the bed. "You can sleep here tonight."

"I don't want to take your bed, Lucas. I can go back to my room," she protested. "It's not too far."

For some reason, he frowned and hugged her close. "I really don't mind. And besides, I'd like to keep you close tonight."

"Am I in danger?" she asked curiously.

He shook his head and leaned his face into her neck. "Not here, but you were earlier and I almost didn't make it in time."

Isabelle hugged him back and understanding dawned on her. He had been worried about her. He felt guilty that she had been hurt. As the thoughts occurred to her, a nagging doubt tickled the back of her mind. Maybe she was reading too much into this. But why would he kiss her? Why would he cling to her like this? Were all relationships this complicated?

Uncomfortable with her uncertainty, she pulled away and lay down on the bed with her back to him, closing her eyes when he joined her on top of the covers. He put an arm around her and she caught his hand, pulling it up between her breasts under her chin. Despite her doubts, he made her feel warm and safe. Cared for. How devastated would she be if she lost that?

"Lucas?"

"Hm?"

She paused. What could she say? "Your mum said something while I was in the tub."

He remained silent. Waiting.

"Never mind," she mumbled awkwardly. Maybe she didn't want to know. Maybe it would be better to enjoy it while it lasted.

"Isabelle?"

Her heart skipped a beat. She felt silly and excited at once and she wasn't sure why. "Yes?"

"I'm glad you're safe," he told her sincerely.

For some reason, that disappointed her. What had she expected him to say? Could she just ask him where she stood? For some reason, that felt a little desperate. Her head was beginning to hurt again. He was so cheerful and enigmatic. How could she ever figure out what was _really _going on inside his head? She fought for something else to think about.

"Lucas?"

"Hm?" He pulled her closer and leaned his chin on her shoulder, his breath tickling her neck distractingly.

"Is my mum okay?" She had been so caught up with the danger, she hadn't thought twice about leaving her mother alone.

"She's fine. For all she knows, she had a nice Sunday lunch with her daughter," he told her easily.

Isabelle's mind flew into overdrive. That didn't make any sense! "How's that? What about Enrique? The library?"

"A gas main exploded under the library and Enrique broke up with her last week," he explained simply. "The Order can amend memories when it's convenient."

"How?"

"Ever seen Men in Black?" he asked gleefully.

"Don't tell me you have a neuralizer," Isabelle groaned.

"Okay," he replied shortly. She could tell he was holding back his laughter. The fact made her feel ornery and she released his hand before rolling over and pinning him, frowning down into his face. A short wrestling match ensued and he quickly came out on top, straddling her stomach and grinning triumphantly as he held her wrists above her head. He leaned down to hover just a centimeter away from her face and her breath caught in her throat as her heart hammered painfully against his chest. Unaware of her anticipation, he kissed her forehead before rolling off of her onto the floor.

He flipped off the lamp and settled into his sleeping bag while she tried to get her heart to return to normal. They were quiet several minutes before a thought occurred to her. "Lucas?"

"Yes Isabelle?" He sounded amused.

"How did you get to the library earlier? You said something about being pulled away. What happened?"

She heard him rustling inside his sleeping bag and saw his dim silhouette as he sat up. "I'm not sure. I was doing weapons training with my brother, then I was just... there. I don't even remember traveling. One minute I was in the courtyard and the next I was in the library."

"I think I called you," she admitted softly.

To her surprise, his hand reached over to stroke her cheek. "No, you didn't Isabelle. You're a human. You don't have any magical powers. You can't bend the laws of physics. I'm not sure what it was, but it wasn't you."

"I turned the god into a moth!" she argued softly.

He took her hand and she could see him shake his head. "No, Isabelle. You were very, very lucky. Someone or some_thing_ was watching out for you."

Isabelle felt deflated. She had been sure it was her. "Then why did he want me? He wanted to me to write something for him."

"Words have power, Isabelle. You've seen that. You know that as well as anyone," he answered cryptically.

Feeling strongly disappointed, she nodded into the darkness. "Okay."

"Okay?" he echoed, pushing his face forward. She could just make out his sincere eyes regarding her somberly in the moonlight as he rested his chin on the mattress beside her face. She nodded and he smiled, leaning forward to brush a kiss across her lips. She hooked her hand around his neck and held him in place, kissing him hard. Not wanting to let go. He seemed surprised again. It made her heart hurt. She let him go and he sank back down onto his bed.

"Goodnight, Lucas," she said softly.

"Goodnight, Isabelle," he sighed, staring up at the ceiling.


	5. Wibblywobbly, timeywimey

Chapter 5

Isabelle woke up feeling heavy. She could see sunlight streaming in through the window, but when she tried to move, it was as if there was a load of mattresses on her back. Suddenly, the load giggled. As best she could, she turned her head to look over her shoulder and found herself staring into bright, cinnamon colored eyes. Daisy grinned at her and squirmed before the door opened.

"Dais, what are you doing?" Lucas cried.

Suddenly, the pressure was gone and she only felt a small girl straddling the small of her back. Lucas came and scooped her off, taking a seat at his desk with his sister in his lap. "I was making sure she didn't float away," Daisy whispered loudly.

Lucas nodded seriously, his eyes wide. "Oh... thank you Daisy. Did Demetri ask you to do that?"

A high-pitched giggle was his only response and he chased her out of the room, shutting the door behind her. Isabelle rolled over and stretched, groaning as she extended her arm and her shoulder screamed in pain. Pushing herself up with her good arm, she rubbed her hair and yawned sleepily.

"You're adorable in the morning," Lucas announced as he moved toward her.

Isabelle blushed and squinted at him as he stood over her. "Thanks. I don't feel very adorable."

For some reason, that pronouncement made him grin even wider. "You'll feel better after a shower. How's your shoulder?"

"It's a little rusty," she admitted reluctantly.

Lucas took a seat beside her and reached for her wrist, narrowing his eyes suspiciously when she winced at the movement. Placing the flat of his palm on the joint, he stared into her eyes as a mild heat flowed into her shoulder. He turned to watch what he was doing as he massaged her shoulder and arm gently. When he was finished, she realized she could move it with almost no pain.

"My mom works in the Healing Wing," he explained simply when she stared at him in surprise.

"Thank you." For some reason, her gratitude embarrassed him and he quickly directed her to a small bathroom for her shower. When she stepped out, she found everything she needed to get ready, including a cream-colored paisley dress and a violet cardigan embroidered with a sprig of lavender flowers on the right shoulder. There were even new undergarments that actually fit, and a fresh pair of house socks. She wondered if he got them specifically because he had seen her wear them before or if they were standard for people living in the House. She knew that she hadn't seen anyone wearing shoes inside since she had gotten there.

Pulling her hair back into a loose ponytail, Isabelle left the bathroom and made her way to the kitchen where Lucas and Demetri were sitting at the table. Lucas quickly got up and served her breakfast before taking a seat beside her. She lifted her spoon and Demetri slapped his palms against his thighs.

"Well kids, this has been swell, but I've got a date," he announced brusquely as he stood.

"Sarah?" Lucas asked wryly.

"Sarah," Demetri confirmed with a pointed grin, twitching his eyes in Isabelle's direction. "I'll see you later Luke. Have a good day, Isabelle."

After he had gone, Lucas turned to smile at his companion. "You look nice today."

She blushed and looked down at her food. "Thank you. Did you choose this?"

"You look nice in dresses," he replied non-committally.

"You've never seen me in anything _but_ dresses," Isabelle laughed. "What are we doing today?"

He accepted the quick change in conversation gracefully and leaned back in his chair. "Well, I'm sorry to say we're going to try to figure out what's going on with you which might mean tests. Hopefully, if we can understand _what _the gods want, we'll be able to fix it. You've never had any experiences before Bue have you? No ghosts, aliens, anything like that?"

She shook her head. "I'm afraid my life has always been pretty ordinary."

"Well, now that _that's _over..." he laughed. She nodded her head in agreement. "I'm sure we'll figure things out quickly."

She finished her breakfast and he took care of the dishes before moving over to offer her his hand. He led her out of the apartment. They wound their way through the passages, talking amicably while Lucas shared more secrets of the world. Isabelle laughed and asked every question that occurred to her. They reached an open courtyard where a large group of students were practicing fighting and Lucas grinned as he waved at his sister. He was glared at by the instructor, a tall, burly man with spiky hair, and pushed her forward, hastening their departure.

"His hair was green!" she gasped as they closed the doors behind them.

"He's a half demon, but it's not what you think: his mother had one hell of a fetish," Lucas chuckled. "She was humanoid- he was a tree. Who are we to deny true love?"

"So where exactly are we going?" Isabelle asked as he led her through yet another maze of passageways.

Pulling her up by the hand to tuck her arm under his, he grinned fondly down into her face. "Haven't I told you yet?"

She shook her head and smiled, anticipation curling ing her stomach. "Are we going to meet the Wizard of Oz?"

He shook his head and gave her an exasperated look. "You ought to take this more seriously, Isabelle. Your _life_ could be in danger. The Order isn't just a bunch of fairy tales dancing around for your amusement."

She dropped her gaze, abashed. "I'm sorry..."

"It's all right," he forgave her instantly. "Besides... nobody gets to see the Wizard! Nobody's _ever _seen the Wizard! Even _I've _never seen him!"

She laughed and nudged her arm against him, pushing him away from her. Still holding her hand, he swayed out until he bounced against the wall, then recoiled and bumped back into her, pinning her gently to the other wall. Still giggling, she looked up to find him smiling down at her. Her heart skipped a beat and the chuckles died in her throat. He took a step back, releasing her hand as if he had been stung.

She had hoped... had _thought_ he was about to kiss her. Forcing herself not to dwell, she asked, "So _tell_ _me_. Where are we going?"

"We're going to see Kannon," he replied importantly. She thought for a second that she saw something in his eyes. Some emotion. Regret? Discomfort? He blinked and it was gone.

"And who is Kannon?" she prompted. He smiled enigmatically and flicked his eyes to the left. They had reached a door that looked completely out of place set into the whitewashed walls. It was surrounded by an enormous marble frame, decorated with strange symbols. The door itself was a burnished blue copper, set with six circles inside square panels. An eerie azure light glowed softly from the thin glass at the top, pulsing on the ceiling like water.

Setting his hand on the lever, he pushed against the door and it let out a low groan as it ground back on its hinges. Isabelle followed him, expecting to be led into a room. She gaped when she stepped into a garden. It was nighttime. They stood at the top of a mountain dotted with etherial trees that flowed like statues around the clearing. Snow was falling softly around an enormous stone basin that was glowing and swirling gently in the moonlight. A thin, willowy woman with long black hair sat beside the basin, trailing her fingers in the luminescent blue water. She wore white, flowing robes that seemed to defy the laws of gravity, contrasted with heavy necklaces looped around her thin neck. Isabelle's stomach lurched as she noticed two children, standing immobile on either side of the woman. A boy and a girl, dressed in identical blue kimonos. They stared ahead blindly, as if in a trance. Something about them made her feel... creepy. The woman looked up with a small smile. Her face was round and pleasant and her white irises stared at Lucas as though she knew him too well.

"So... you've come at last," Kannon mused in a soft, throaty voice. The pool stirred and Isabelle felt her heart jump as a long, lithe head broke the surface of the water, sliding easily under the woman's fingers before disappearing. "Apalala is glad to see the face of his old friend."

It took Isabelle a moment to realize that she wasn't talking to Lucas. The woman's wide, colorless eyes were trained on her face. Isabelle felt a gentle nudge behind her eyes, as if someone were pushing aside neurons. Looking for something. She furrowed her brow at the woman, willing the prodding sensation to cease.

Undaunted, Lucas approached and Isabelle trailed along behind him. He knelt in front of the woman, bowing low. Isabelle solemnly copied his gesture, wishing he would explain things _before _he plunged her into awkward situations.

Before he could speak, Kannon reached out and touched his face, smiling at him intimately. "I know why you are here, child of Finn."

"I assumed as much," Lucas replied wryly. "So tell me, Kannon, what do you _see_?_"_

Rather than answering, her eyes turned to the pool and she dipped her fingers back in the water. Glowing white orbs drifted up her fingers to play around her wrist, whispering. "There is much I could tell you about your companion, Lucas, none of it you will like."

Lucas gave her a stony frown. "Tell me what I need to know. If it's unpleasant, we'll deal with it. If you've nothing good to say, I'll talk to Apalala-sama."

A serpentine head lifted out of the pool and Isabelle gasped. It was a dragon. Its scales glittered in the moonlight like golden armor. Its long, silver beard floated insubstantially, curling in an invisible current and seemed to merge with the water beneath the ripples. It stared at the three of them with wide, ancient eyes.

"Her name is written on the hand of Orion," Kannon conceded gracefully, apparently unaware of the dragon's presence as she continued to trail her fingers in the water. "By all the laws of this world, she _should not _exist. There is nowhere safe for you, daughter of Amana. You will run until the Universe restores balance. Everything you touch will die. Everyone you love will be consumed. You have put the Order in terrible danger bringing her here, Kunitsu-kun."

"Wow. That _does _make me unhappy." Though Isabelle's insides were quaking at the eerie proclamation, Lucas seemed wholly unimpressed. "What does Apalala-sama say?"

A voice like the low rumble of thunder filled the garden. "Shubh raatri, my old friend."

The dragon bowed to Isabelle and she stared in stunned silence before sinking down low before him. She could feel his power. His unfathomable knowledge and mind-shattering age. Yet he bowed to her. It was incredible. Her hair was stirred by a warm wind and she felt something wispy, almost spectral brush the crest of her head. She looked up to find herself staring into the dragon's mouth. His ivory teeth were bared and it took her a moment to realize he was smiling at her.

She smiled back and the dragon's voice suddenly rumbled through her mind. "You have many questions and little time, child. Trust the boy and him _only_. He will not betray you. He holds your yarn in his hands. It is his duty to protect it. If he does not, an ancient evil will rise and you will be his acolyte. The next step on your journey is to consult the spheres. You will find answers and questions with the scion of Samos."

Apalala's cool breath brushed her face, smelling of salt, wind and lightning. She closed her eyes for a moment and when she opened them, he was gone. Isabelle blinked and turned to look at Lucas and Kannon. They seemed to have forgotten she was there as they traded witticisms.

Isabelle stood and bowed to Kannon, ignoring Lucas' surprised look. "Thank you, Kannon-Bosatsu, for your wisdom. Lucas, I believe it's time to go."

He gaped at her daftly and she reached down to grab his hand, pulling him up and heading toward the door. She didn't know where the assertiveness came from, but it was all she could do to keep from laughing at his stunned expression. He had to help her with the door when she couldn't work the rusty handle and she sighed in relief when they finally stepped back into the house. She leaned against the closed door and grinned, laughing up at him as he continued to stare at her.

"What was that all about?" he asked incredulously.

Pushing herself upright, she caught his hand. "Come on. I'm hungry."

She began walking away, but he pulled her back to stand in front of him. "No... talk first. Eat later. Now, you explain to me why you suddenly decided to blow off a bloody _bodhisatva _for a sandwich."

"Did _you _learn anything pertinent from her other than that I'm a walking apocalypse?" she asked cynically. When he remained stubbornly silent, she continued. "I had a nice chat with Apalala-sama and I think I have all we need. That's worth more than a sandwich."

Lucas stared at her in stunned shock before grinning. He reached up and held her jaw with both hands and kissed her forehead exuberantly. "Isabelle Torch, you're fantastic!"

"Thank you," she gloated. "Lunch?"

"Anything you want," he promised. In no time, he brought her to the kitchen, where several groups of people had already settled for an early meal. Some of the younger people turned to watch them as they came in and Isabelle couldn't help but notice a girl with vibrant orange hair glaring at her. Lucas had a word with one of the cooks before guiding her to the same table.

"Lucas! How nice to see you," the redhead piped up as they took their seats. With a bit more enthusiasm than seemed necessary, she leaned across the table and hugged him, kissing his cheek while shooting a pointed stare at Isabelle.

"Hi Charity," Lucas replied in a surprised voice. "How are you?"

The other three people at the table were taking in the scene with keen interest and Isabelle took the time to scrutinize each of them. The two boys were identical twins with long black hair that fell into their green eyes. They appeared to be wearing makeup. The other girl had dark brown hair and horsey teeth set in a friendly face. She was looking at Isabelle with sympathetic blue eyes. Charity was slightly chubby with frizzy orange hair, a wealth of freckles and deep brown eyes. When she smiled, she showed more gums than teeth and it was more than obvious that she felt possessive over Lucas.

"I'm fine," Lucas answered amiably before turning to the rest of the table. "Everyone, this is Isabelle. Isabelle, this is Hannah, Jeremiah, Hezekiah, and Charity."

"It's nice to meet you," Hannah volunteered pointedly, reaching out to shake Isabelle's hand.

"So what are you? One of Daedalus' little _discoveries_ that Lucas has to babysit until we can find a place for you?" Charity asked rudely. She was smarting over the fact that they were holding hands when they came in. And why the hell did they have to sit so damn close?

The barb would have had more effect if Isabelle had any idea what she was talking about. Rather than taking offense, she furrowed her brow and whispered to Lucas, "Who's Daedalus?"

"One of our patrons," he explained in a low voice. He shot Charity a furious look. "Actually, Isabelle is all my responsibility. _I_ found her and _I_ brought her here."

"Are you saying she's _human?_" Charity cried derisively. "She can't stay here, Lucas! You _know _what will happen."

"Okay, why is everyone talking about Isabelle like she's a stray cat?" Hannah cut in evenly. Several plates of food arrived, sparing them from responding and Isabelle shot the girl a grateful look as she dug into her meal.

Lucas leaned over and kissed her temple. "Sorry about that."

"Don't worry about it," she reassured him with a smile.

"_Anyway_..." Charity interrupted impatiently. "What are you going to do with her, then, Lucas? As Hannah pointed out, she's not just a stray for you to adopt. What happens when whatever is going on with her ends? Just gonna wipe her memory and send her home?"

"I'll do whatever I have to for her to be safe," Lucas replied evenly.

"So what _is_ going on with her?" the twin on the right interjected.

"Is she the one who destroyed Bue?" his brother piped up.

Four identical eyes turned to her and she blushed. "I was there... we're not quite sure how it happened, though."

"Well, if it wasn't Lucas and it wasn't The Professor, then you're the only variable that remains unaccounted for. Unless Bue himself decided to just kick the bucket," the first brother reasoned. She was fairly certain he was Hezekiah.

"Yeah but if she really is _just _a human, there's no way she could destroy a god," Hannah concluded. "Unless you have some sort of super-duper talisman or something."

Isabelle shrugged and raised her hands. "These aren't even my clothes."

"Isabelle, what did Apalala say to you?" Lucas asked suddenly. "You told me he spoke, what did he say?"

All eyes turned expectantly to Isabelle. Charity looked markedly angry at the pronouncement while the others were openly astonished. Feeling shy, she answered quietly. "He told me that I had to trust you."

"How convenient," Charity sneered before shooting an ugly look at Lucas. "Is Tatsu-sama playing match-maker for you now, Luke? Not that you need the extra help..."

"Not bitter at all, are you Charity?" Jeremiah joked glibly.

"Piss off-!"

"Guys! Let's not fight in front of a guest," Hannah reprimanded sharply.

"What else did he say?" Lucas asked, unperturbed by the bickering of the others.

Isabelle thought back. "He told me that we will find more answers and questions with the scion of Samos. I'm not sure what that means, though."

"Scion is another word for descendant, but I've never heard of a god named Samos," Charity volunteered. "Are you sure you remember the name?"

"Your dad would know, Luke," Hezekiah pointed out helpfully.

"Uh-oh. Now it's a party,"Jeremiah groaned, looking behind them. Two more girls had entered the kitchen. One was beautiful with chic blonde hair and an hourglass figure wrapped in a revealing knit dress. The other was tall and thin with short, edgy purple hair and a nose ring. Leaning forward, Jeremiah patted Isabelle's hand and gave her a sympathetic smile. "Just so you know, girls don't hate Lucas, they just hate seeing him with someone else."

Isabelle turned to find Lucas looking vaguely uncomfortable and he smiled helplessly at her. They were sitting shoulder to shoulder on the bench and had been unusually close for the entire meal. Obviously, based on their body language, the others had seen this before. Those who hadn't entertained romantic thoughts treated her with sympathy. Those who had saw her as a rival.

"My, isn't this cozy?" The blonde girl crooned as she came up and put her hand on Lucas' shoulder. "Who's your friend, Luke?"

Tired of being ignored, or rather, treated like something too simple to understand and add to the conversation, Isabelle felt something bold and strong rise up inside her. She straightened her back and met the two womens' gazes head on. "Isabelle Torch. I defeated Bue and _both_ Aztec gods of the dead in the past two days _and_ I'm a human. It's nice to meet you."

She could have been mistaken, but she thought she saw Lucas smile out of the corner of her eye. When she looked, however, his face was innocently blank. The others, however, weren't quite so tactful. Jeremiah chuckled and clapped his hands together. "Well, she told _you, _Tara_."_

"Fuck you, _mutant_," the girl with purple hair spat.

"Katie!" Hannah reprimanded sharply.

Hezekiah surged from his seat and poked his finger in the girl's face. "Stay out of this, demon-spawn!"

"Mud-blood!"

"Shit for brains!"

"Stop it, you two, you're acting like children!" Hannah cried, jumping to her feet and putting both hands out to keep them apart.

To emphasize her point, twin purple bubbles erupted from her palms, engulfing the two fierce combatants. Hezekiah calmed instantly. It's hard to stay mad when you are trapped inside a purple bubble and he laughed at the situation. Katie, however, glared spitefully at her prison. Her arms morphed into long green tentacles and tore through the viscous walls before shrinking back to normal. She humphed and glared at Isabelle as if it was all her fault before turning to her friend. "Come on, Tara. Let's go somewhere more _civilized_ for our meal."

The pair stalked off and Isabelle took the chance to stand. "Well, I'm finished. Are you ready, Lucas?"

He glanced down at her half full plate before looking up at her in concern. "That's all you're gonna eat?"

"I've lost my appetite," she explained dryly.

Forgetting about the others at the table, he stood and leaned over her, spearing his hand through her hair and looking down at her in concern as he rubbed his thumb across her cheek. "Are you okay? Is it because of-"

She blushed and shrugged, keenly aware of the others watching them. "I don't eat much," she whispered uncomfortably.

"Don't worry about them, Isabelle," he murmured with a knowing grin. "This is _me_. You don't have to be self-conscious."

"I'm not self-conscious because of _you_," she giggled. "Now stop flirting with me and finish your lunch so we can _go_."

"_Okay_," he chuckled, dipping his head to brush his lips against hers before finally, blessedly, releasing her. He sat and wolfed down the rest of his meal while the others stared silently between them. Lucas was often oblivious to how his actions could be misconstrued, but they'd never seen him act like _this._ Maybe she _was _different. He let them stew, smiling brazenly when they caught his eye.

As they were leaving, Hannah leaned over and said a little too loudly, "I never saw Lucas act that way with _you_, Charity."

"Shut up, Hannah," she growled, glaring after them.

Lucas caught Isabelle's hand in his own and grinned as they left. "Okay- so tell me _exactly_ what Apalala said."

Isabelle had been expecting this, so she had worked to carefully remember all she had been told. "He said we didn't have a lot of time. That I should trust you or some ancient evil would take over the earth. Then he said we should consult the spheres. We'd find answers and questions with the scion of Samos."

Lucas stopped and turned to her, brows raised. "Consult the spheres? Why didn't you say so earlier?"

"I didn't know it was important," she explained as he switched directions.

"Did he say anything else, Isabelle? Anything at all might be important," he told her compellingly. He came up short to give her a searching stare.

She thought carefully over what the dragon had told her and realized there _was_ something else. Two things he had implied that she hadn't liked thinking about. The first was that she might die if he failed to protect her. The second was worse:that she might choose to join whatever power was rising. And somehow, it all hinged on Lucas.

Finally, she shook her head and smiled at him. He knew she was lying. She knew he knew. Still, he trusted her judgment. He was accustomed to a world of secrets, half-truths and prophecies. He understood that there was a risk in knowing everything. Sometimes knowing the future meant you'd be trapped by it. And sometimes trying to prevent the future was the key factor in causing it. He'd bide his time and trust Isabelle while she trusted him.


	6. Each life is a fire to be lit

Chapter 6

A maze of corridors later, Lucas made a sharp right, pressing against her as he steered her the way he wanted to go. The short hallway led to a door that looked like one you would find in the kitchen of any house, complete with red and white gingham curtains. He turned the knob and let her out into the blinding light of the morning. They were in a garden that was filled with thousands of varieties of flowers, trees, and bushes, meshed haphazardly around fountains and statues. It certainly didn't _feel_ like autumn there. Then again, she'd just been in a room that seemed like winter earlier that morning. If time didn't behave at Headquarters, why should the weather?

Lucas produced a pair of trainers from his satchel and leaned down to put them on before smiling up at her. "Wait? Did you forget-" he produced a pair of brown flats for her with a grin and accepted her socks as she bent to put them on.

"Is there anything you _don't _have in that bag?" she mused as she straightened and he took her hand.

"Nope."

"How do you fit it all?" she laughed.

"It's bigger on the inside," he told her obviously. Tugging her hand, he set off down the white stone path. Isabelle looked up eagerly as she recognized the sound of thousands of chimes reverberating in harmony over the crest of a hill. They reached the summit and Isabelle gaped in surprise as they looked down on a sea of bronze globes, hovering like a choir before a thin, handsome man. He was wearing a brown vest with a white shirt and dark brown tie. His shirtsleeves were rolled up past his elbows and his hands were held up in front of him, as if he were conducting. His dark blonde hair was thick and wavy, brushed lightly over his golden brow. He gave them a charming grin as they approached.

"Ah, Lucas! I suspected you'd be along," he called in a rich, melodious voice. They came to a stop beside him and he turned and raised an eyebrow, sweeping it over Isabelle with keen interest. "And _who _is your charming companion?"

"This is Isabelle," Lucas replied, unfazed by the man's open scrutiny.

Without warning, the man swung his arm out and grabbed Isabelle's free hand, dragging her toward him and spinning with her as he began to waltz. "Lovely. Do you dance, Isabelle?" he asked pleasantly as she stumbled to keep up with him. Lucas began to protest, but the orbs suddenly swirled around them, blocking him out.

"A little," she admitted. Her face was flaming, but she was quickly hitting her stride as he whirled her around enthusiastically.

"You've had _some_ training, I see," he chuckled, leaning uncomfortably close.

"They had lessons in my school," she gasped. "I was partnered with Danielle MacClinnon."

"She must've been a good teacher." He twirled her out to arm's length and a hand stabbed through the mass of spheres, catching her hand and jerking her away from him. The barrier disintegrated and the man frowned at Lucas, who was holding her close against his chest with a fierce look on his face. The man smiled mockingly as he waved the orbs away. "Not up for a little competition, Lucas?"

"There is no competition between us, Mortimer," Lucas replied readily.

"Who _is _he?" Isabelle whispered as she turned her face to Lucas' chest.

Urging her not to be shy, he released her and turned her toward the charming, pushy man. "Isabelle, this is Mortimer. Descended from Pythagorus himself."

Isabelle stared as he leaned over to kiss her hand. "The music of the spheres..." she breathed as she looked up at the crowd of orbs hovering behind him. Suddenly the dragon's words made sense. His ancestor, Pythagoras the Samian, had been from Samos.

The man's grin was so cheeky that she wanted to slap him. "Yes, we're all quite brilliant in my family, my dear. Don't be intimidated. Lucas- what exactly is it that _I_ can do for _you_?"

"I'm sure you've heard of the destruction of the Book of Bue," Lucas replied cryptically.

The man's eyebrows shot up and he looked at Isabelle with renewed interest. "You're not telling me this girl-?"

"Exactly. I need you to examine her. Tell me whatever you can." Lucas leaned over to kiss her temple and deftly murmured, "No matter what he says, he _does_ _not_ need to examine you naked."

"Are you not staying?" she asked, feeling frightened as she gripped his hand.

"I'll be here," he reassured her gently. "Just be on guard with him. He's got something of a reputation."

Reluctantly, she allowed herself to be drawn away. Lucas took a seat in the spindly, gold chair Mortimer had set out beside a matching table covered with splotched and torn sheets of paper. The orbs reverberated around her, different sizes and tones rattling her to her core. She was lifted into the air once. Twice. As if they were weighing her. Next, Mortimer came forward with a tape measure, taking measurements and scribbling down notes on a scroll with a long, gold quill. He kept muttering, "Hm. Interesting. Very interesting..."

After nearly an hour of fussing, Isabelle was reaching the end of her patience. The man took her face in his hands and squeezed, pulled and prodded her flesh, examining her from every angle before looking deeply into her eyes, his nose only an inch from her own. "Don't think, just answer: What do you want to do to me right now, child?"

"Blast you into that tree," she answered in hard, defiant voice. She then blushed and dropped her eyes. "I- I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me."

Her response failed to move him and he simply said, "Hm... interesting. Very interesting indeed."

"I'm sorry, but what's so interesting?" Isabelle asked in abject confusion.

Ignoring her question, Mortimer released her face and stepped back, eyeing her critically. "I wonder, Isabelle, if you wouldn't do one more thing for me? A test, of sorts."

Isabelle sighed and shrugged. "Whatever you say."

"Good girl! Now... remove your clothes please."

Isabelle's cry of outrage was cut short by Lucas' calm interjection, "None of that, Mortimer."

"Honestly! I simply _cannot _work under these conditions! If you want my information to be accurate, she simply _must_ be unclothed!" Mortimer exploded.

Lucas stood and they conferred in low voices for a moment before turning back to her. Lucas looked glum. "I'm sorry, Isabelle."

"I am _not _undressing out in the middle of the lawn in front of _two_ madmen!" she cried, aghast at the suggestion.

Mortimer and Lucas exchanged a look, clearly befuddled. "Really child, what do _we_ have to do with it? I understand you being upset about going starkers outside but... really? Name-calling?"

Isabelle's face flamed. They had completely missed the point. Numbly, she turned and slipped out of her shoes, unbuttoning her sweater without a word. Maybe Irene was right after all... After a minute, she stood naked before them, staring at the ground with her arms crossed over her chest.

"Very good, Isabelle. Now- take this and tell me what you feel." Mortimer placed a small wooden box in her hands and lifted the lid to reveal two small globes of shining crystal. They seemed to tinkle, even as she held them still, and prismatic beams of light shot randomly from their cores.

She stared at the box for a moment before glaring up at him. "I had to get undressed for this?"

"Concentrate!" he scolded.

"What am I supposed to _do?_" she cried angrily.

"Just what he says, Isabelle," Lucas' calm voice broke through her stormy ire. He stepped behind her and leaned over her shoulder whispering in her ear. His breath stirred her hair. "Just concentrate."

His hand brushed against her naked scapula and she gasped. Her head flew back and she stared sightlessly, strange images playing across her mind's eye. The sky overhead darkened though there were no clouds. As if she had been immersed in water, her hair and arms floated up and she rose several inches above the ground. She couldn't breathe. She was weightless. She saw light. Creatures. Faces. Colors refracting against strange scenes. A voice filled her ears, speaking a language she did not understand. The foreign words issued silently from her lips. She saw a beautiful woman with flowing silver hair in inky black robes smiling at her. A piercing luminescence built up inside her body, shining through her skin. Eddying and swirling, it swelled as though it would rip her apart. A wave of warm, white light exploded from her, blowing away the spheres and bending grass, trees, bushes; everything in its wake. Singing a ring of grass beneath her feet. Isabelle collapsed forward. Lucas caught her around the waist before she hit the ground, pulling her up so sharply that her breath burst from her lungs and she fought to draw in oxygen. She choked as if she really _had _been under water.

"Isabelle!" Lucas' panicked voice cut through her hazy consciousness.

"Oh... that's fearsome magic," Mortimer murmured from his place on the ground where he had landed when the explosion knocked him on his back. He pushed himself up and stared. "That's old... _Impossibly_ old. That's..."

Lucas sank to the ground, cradling Isabelle against his chest as he tapped her face. "Isabelle? Come on, Isabelle! Breathe!"

Though she gasped, she couldn't seem to drawn any air into her lungs. She was suffocating! She stared up at him, terrified. Lucas' cracked lips covered her own and he blew into her mouth. She choked and ripped her head away, retching. A small ball of light dropped from her mouth, bouncing on the ground with a melodious tinkle. Isabelle gasped. Oxygen flooded her lungs and she wheezed heavily, rolling her head against his chest. Lucas pulled her tighter, rocking her back and forth as she panted. She was covered in sweat and tears leaked unchecked down her cheeks.

"Aw... that's brilliant!" Mortimer exclaimed as he approached them and lifted the jewel Isabelle had just coughed up. Holding it up to the now bright sky, he beamed and shook his head. "_That's_ beautiful! See, that's why you had to do this naked. Your clothes would have burned up in that light. Look at Lucas!"

She closed her eyes, a little too pleased to be alive and breathing to evaluate how the experiment had gone. She vaguely registered the smell of burnt cotton and her fingers brushed bare skin when she reached up to clutch Lucas' shirt. Catching his shoulder, she struggled to pull herself upright and his hands were quickly there to shift her. She opened her eyes and stared. Lucas' shirt had been reduced to charred rags and his skin was a chapped, angry red with blisters and black marks standing out angrily on his arms and chest. Even still, he smiled down at her, relieved. Completely unconcerned by the decimation of his clothes or the painful burns on his body.

Her head rocked back against his arm as her chest heaved. She glared at Mortimer. "You knew... this... would happen?" she puffed angrily.

"Well... no. Not _this. _Of course not," he spluttered defensively. "I just thought... suspected, really, that you..."

"I could've _died! _I could have killed you both!" she cried. Isabelle knew without a doubt she had never been so angry in her entire life. She struggled to disentangle herself from Lucas' arms and surged to her feet, swaying unsteadily as she glared at the man.

His face went pink and he looked away. "You might, erm, want to put some clothes on," he prompted gently.

Enraged, Isabelle's arm shot out and she pushed with all her might. A ball of white light burst from her palm and Mortimer threw himself to the side. The light missed him by inches and exploded against a tree. Isabelle stared down at her hand, horrified, before looking up at him. "I'm sorry!" she whispered, horrified.

To her surprise, he laughed. "That's my girl!"

"Stop while you're ahead, Mortimer," Lucas pleaded as he handed Isabelle her clothes. "Just tell us what all this _means_. How did Isabelle make that light?"

Isabelle slipped into her clothes while Mortimer held up his hands, cackling madly as the spheres crowded around him. "What does it look like? You saw the two orbs in the box, Lucas?"

"That's right," he conceded.

"Well, didn't the stone Isabelle coughed up look _exactly _like those?" Mortimer exclaimed. As if that explained everything. As Isabelle buttoned her cardigan, the pair stared at him blankly. Mortimer stomped his foot angrily. "Don't either of you understand the theory of the music of the spheres?"

"It's the harmony of the celestial bodies," Isabelle filled in easily.

Mortimer held out his hands as though she had answered her own question and Lucas shook his head. "I think you missed a step, Mortimer. This doesn't _explain _anything."

"What exactly do you think the _spheres_ are?" Mortimer cried. "Planets! Stars! Moons! Geometry in the humming of the strings! Music in the spacing of the spheres! Celestial bodies moving together in harmony and Isabelle just happened to have a ball of the universe stuck in her throat!"

Isabelle stared at him as if he was completely mad. "So... what? I'm a planet now?"

Frustrated, Mortimer retrieved one of the jewels from the charred ring of grass where she had dropped them and held both stones beneath her nose. They were almost identical, though hers seemed brighter, cleaner as it sparkled in the light. "Does this _look _like a planet to you? No! It's a star!"

No one spoke or moved for a heartbeat. Isabelle gingerly reached forward and took her sphere. It seemed to vibrate in her hand. "So... I'm a star..."

"Well, _descended_ from a star," Mortimer replied triumphantly. "But that's _rare_, Isabelle. So rare. These days, people call those chunks of lifeless rock falling stars, but they're nothing but ice and stone. _Real_ stars don't come to earth anymore! They haven't for thousands of years."

"So, how could Isabelle be descended from a star if they haven't been around for thousands of years?" Lucas asked skeptically.

Mortimer waved his hand vaguely, as if it didn't matter. "Dormant genes, hiding in her family for the right time. The right circumstances. The right combination of traits to crop back up. Bue's presence must've awakened something. Brought the dormant traits back to life _in_ Isabelle. With all that ancient power stored up inside her, it's no wonder the Others were tearing off after her! Why, she could do anything! She could make anything happen. Her resources are virtually limitless!"

Mortimer caught her hand, shaking it enthusiastically and Isabelle blushed, pulling away. "You're wrong! I can't do anything. I don't have any power. Lucas, you said I was just human. There's nothing special about me. I'm just... ordinary. I work in a book shop!"

"All that might have been true a few days ago, my dear, but I'm afraid that life is in the past," Mortimer contradicted gently.

Lucas' words from the previous day suddenly crashed in on her. Whereas before she would have given anything to be able to stay with the Order, she was now horrified. She desperately wanted to go back to her normal, humdrum life. She wanted to hug her parents and work for Mr. Giles and cook pasta and do laundry. Blood roared in her ears as she realized her entire life was over.

Lucas caught her as she fainted, heaving her up into his arms and glaring at Mortimer. "You could've broken it a little gentler. Given her some time," he scolded fiercely.

Mortimer shrugged helplessly. "That was not the task you set for me. And besides, friends are as companions on a journey who ought to aid each other to persevere in the road to a happier life."

"Don't quote Pythagorus at me, Mortimer. Silence is better than unmeaning words," Lucas replied darkly.

"My dear boy, I never say anything without meaning," Mortimer chuckled. "You might want to take her to the Healing Spring, though. All that starlight will have scorched her. And you too, if I'm not mistaken."

Lucas glared at him. "Would you mind? I've got my hands full."

"Certainly." Mortimer raised his arms and the spheres began humming around him. Swirling toward the pair, they began vibrating in harmony. The music rang and trilled as the orbs whirled around them and Lucas experienced a feeling of weightlessness before there was a tug behind his bellybutton. He gripped Isabelle tightly as he was pulled inside out and he stumbled as his feet touched the stone walkway surrounding the Healing Spring.

The pool was still as glass and there was no one about. This was the one place in the entire complex that no one liked to go. When they used the Healing Waters, it had to be diluted. A lot. Only when people were incredibly desperate did they go into the pool itself. Feeling his strength ebbing away, Lucas staggered forward. Somehow, he managed to make it to the water and collapsed, exhausted. In the next second, he shot up, howling in pain as his skin began to smoke. Isabelle was roused by his screams and pushed herself up from where he had dropped her in the shallows.

"Lucas!" she cried. She attempted to drag herself forward when burning pain seared through her injured arm and it buckled under her weight as she wailed in agony. Lucas fell under the water and lay still, bubbles frothing above his body. Isabelle bit her lip, resolutely pushing herself up with her good arm to make two agonizing steps toward him and drag him to the surface. Though his skin was still smoking lightly, the scorch marks were gone and he was clean and whole once more.

"Isabelle," he groaned as she tried to pull him to the edge. "You've got... got to drink... the water."

She ignored him as she heaved him up on the stones, barely conscious of the pain in her shoulder ebbing. "It's okay, Lucas. You're all right now."

His eyes flew open and he gripped her arm with surprising strength. "Drink the water, Isabelle! The starlight burned you inside! You've got to drink it!" he ordered fiercely.

Seeing he wouldn't rest until she did so, she leaned down and slurped from the pool, swallowing several mouthfuls of the scalding, salty water before sitting up to smile at him. "You see? I'm fi-"

She doubled over in pain as a wave of agony ripped through her body. All at once, she felt as if she was on fire. Stabbed with a thousand razor sharp knives. Devoured by flesh-stripping beetles from the inside out. She screamed. She gagged. She retched, but the blazing liquid remained stubbornly inside her body, spreading further and further until her eyes went black with sheer suffering.

Just as suddenly as it had started, the pain began to melt away. She fell forward, gasping for breath as she lay on the rocks next to Lucas, her back half still immersed in the pool. "What the hell was that?" she cried.

"Healing Waters," Lucas replied breathlessly, rolling over to cup her face in his hands and push back her sodden hair. "I'm so sorry, Isabelle. So sorry."

"Why do you keep almost killing me?" she whimpered sarcastically, hot tears pouring down her cheeks. She didn't mean it the way it sounded, but since she had met him she'd almost died three times. The math did not look good.

"I'm so sorry, Isabelle," he repeated fervently. He kissed her forehead before releasing her and pushing himself up with an enormous effort. "Come on. We need to go to the Cleansing Spring, now."

She cringed away from him touch. "No! I'm not doing this again!" she cried.

"The Cleansing Spring doesn't hurt you!" he laughed. "But you need to wash the Healing Waters off of you or it could start _changing_ you."

"How?"

"Your mind. Your body. Anything it thinks needs improving," he explained hastily.

"_It thinks?_ How can _water_ do that?" she asked, even though she had just seen the water in action.

For the first time, he seemed frustrated with her. "Isabelle, please don't ask questions now. We've _got_ to go!"

Grudgingly, she allowed him to haul her up by the arm and lead her to another room. He stripped off his clothes, put them in a bucket of soapy water, and ordered her to do the same before diving in. Wearily, she sat on the edge and began to lower herself, but gasped in shock as her leg was seized by the icy water. She hadn't gotten any farther when Lucas surfaced and smiled at her.

"It doesn't get any better. Best to do it as quickly as possible," he advised. He moved in front of her and held out his arms. Cringing, she took a breath and allowed herself to be pulled in. Lucas held her close as they sank to the bottom. This pool was deeper _and _colder that the first, but the water didn't burn. After a moment, it was almost refreshing, if you could get over the glacial temperature.

They resurfaced and Lucas instructed her to drink some of this water as well. Reluctantly she followed his advice. It was thick and viscous and she could feel the cold all the way down her esophagus. It was so cold that it made her teeth hurt. She felt as if she had swallowed the core of an iceberg. Finally, she was clean enough for Lucas and he hugged her close once more. She blushed, but hugged him back fiercely. "Are you okay?" she asked, her warm tears cascading onto his shoulder.

"I'm fine, Isabelle," he laughed. The memory of the soul-shattering agony of the first pool was already fading from his mind. Leaning back he grinned down at her. "But _you_ seem to have changed a little bit. You were in the water too long."

She furrowed her brow at him and cocked her head to the side before looking down at herself. "What do you mean?"

Her face flamed when both of his hands reached up to cup her breasts, laughing as he explained: "They're bigger."

She hastily brushed his hands away and pushed herself back. Immediately, she began sinking and she gasped before her head went under. Though she kicked her feet, she continued to descend. Lucas grabbed her hand and pulled her forward and she popped up out of the water into his arms. She panted against his chest, wondering how he could stay afloat so easily.

"It's nothing to be embarrassed about, Isabelle," he chided softly.

Red-faced, she tried to explain, but couldn't figure out how. Instead, she tried to deflect his attention. "Why can't I swim in this water?"

"It's heavier so that it can counteract the effects of the Healing Water," he explained simply. "It's kind of like a base neutralizing an acid."

She didn't know what troubled her more: the way he explained it as though it were the most natural thing in the world or the way it kind of made sense. Rather than think too hard about it, she dropped her head to his shoulder, closing her eyes and enjoying the sensation of being held. Her head hurt and, now that she thought about it, her breasts felt tender. They weren't enormous, but a discreet arm to her chest told her they were definitely bigger. She probably couldn't slide by in an almost A anymore.

She tensed as she heard the sound of water rushing and opened her eyes, fearful of what she would see. A ball of swirling water was floating, just above his raised hand and she saw him grinning at her. "You don't have to entertain me, Lucas," she told him, smiling into his shoulder.

He dropped his arm and paddled to the edge of the pool, setting her on the warm stones before pulling himself out. Exhausted, they both lay still for a moment before Lucas turned to her and propped his head up on his hand. "So... you're a star."

She kept her eyes closed, feeling inexplicably grumpy at his amused tone. "I guess so."

Lucas reached forward to smooth his hand down her shoulder where there were four white, spiderweb thin scars. Isabelle peeked out before pushing herself up on her elbows and reaching into the folds of her soggy clothes for the little globe she had coughed up. She rolled it back and forth between her fingers, studying it closely, while Lucas' hand dropped to rub her back. Looking up to ask a question, she found him watching her intently. He gaze was heated. Almost as if...

She blushed. "What?"

When she looked up again, the heat was gone and he gave her his old, familiar smile. "Come on," he chimed cheerfully. He pushed himself up and grabbed his clothes, which instantly began steaming as he touched them. Isabelle told herself not to look, but couldn't help staring as he forced himself into his slightly charred, wet jeans. By the time he had them buttoned and zipped, they were completely dry.

She laughed as he caught her hands and pulled her up. She dressed quickly, shivering under the cold, weighted cloth. Lucas stepped behind her and put his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder as he told her to watch. Flames slowly began licking out from his arms, spreading over her and filling her with a gentle warmth. She didn't feel as though she was on fire. She felt more like she had drunk a vat of hot cocoa sitting in front of a heater dressed in warm, fluffy things. In surprise, she looked down to see that she was completely dry, head to toe.

Lucas stepped back, turning her by her hand to grin down at her. Heat rose to her cheeks under his affectionate gaze. She tried to look down, but encountered his bare chest. She gazed vaguely to the side toward the ground, fighting the warm pulse blossoming in her stomach.

"Isabelle, why are you being so bashful?" Lucas asked, embarrassing her further. When she refused to look at him, he pressed a kiss to her cheekbone. Her eyes slid shut and he trailed down to her cheek; then her jaw. She couldn't breathe. His lips hovered over her racing pulse and he smiled, gently exhaling on her neck, causing her to shiver.

A discreet cough split the silence behind them and they both froze. With effort, Lucas turned and stiffened in surprise. Isabelle peeked around him, red-faced at the man standing in the doorway. He was young and fresh-faced with dark orange hair styled expertly. He stood at least an inch shorter than her and had a noticeably small frame. He wore a pair of designer jeans, an aqua t-shirt beneath a black zip-up sweater, and a pair of brown sports shoes. The shoes caught Isabelle's attention. She hadn't seen anyone else wearing them in the entire complex.

"Mortimer told me you'd be here, Lucas, but I didn't know you'd be so... busy." The man seemed to be laughing at them, though his face gave away nothing.

Lucas laughed uncomfortably and reached up to scratch the back of his head. "Sorry, Daedalus. I should have come to you sooner. This is Isabelle."

Daedalus stepped forward and reached out to shake Isabelle's hand. Lucas had mentioned him before as being a patron of the Order. That meant he was probably a god. A very powerful one at that. She had heard of Daedalus before, but hadn't he been just a human? An architect and master builder? Then, how could he still be alive if that were true? She was surprised when the hand that shook hers was just a plain, normal hand. No electricity. No lightning bolts. No creepy pustules oozing under the skin. It was actually a little calloused. He grinned at her, giving her the distinct impression that he knew what she was thinking. "Nice to meet you, Isabelle. Why don't you two come with me?"

He turned to Lucas. "I'd like to know a little more about Isabelle. You might want to grab a fresh shirt, Luke. As for you, Isabelle, just... pray to Aizen-Myoo for strength."

Isabelle shot Lucas a suspicious look when he choked on a laugh. Daedalus turned to lead them out and Lucas bent over to whisper in her ear. "Aizen-Myoo-sama is the Buddhist deity of enlightenment. His focus is on overcoming lust to seek greater wisdom."

Her face flamed at the very un-god-like insinuation.


	7. The will of the gods

Chapter 7

The door of the Springs did not lead to a labyrinth of corridors as Isabelle had come to expect from the house. Rather, she suddenly found herself in a wide, posh room. The walls were white and there was white shag carpet underfoot. The furniture was retro and fiery red. The room was filled with all sorts of things any young college student would want: a foosball table, plasma tv, every gaming system known to man, a huge selection of guitars and a wet bar.

Daedalus padded toward the bar before catching Lucas' eye. He nodded to a door leading off the room. "Right through there, man."

Lucas squeezed Isabelle's shoulder reassuringly before heading in that direction. She blinked when he opened it and she saw his bedroom on the other side. She wasn't given time to comprehend the logistics, though because Daedalus caught her attention from his place behind the bar. "What'll it be, Isabelle? Soda or hot tea?"

Timidly, she approached him and took a seat on one of the high, red leather stools. "Tea, please. How'd you know-?"

Daedalus enigmatically smiled up at her as he made her tea. "I had a talk with your mother this morning. She told me."

"You talked to my mum?" she repeated, stunned.

He set a light blue teacup festooned with a smiley face in front of her. She took a sip. It was as if she had made it herself. He pulled out a bottle of water and a can of coke before coming around the bar and motioning her toward one of the couches. "You've been drawing attention to yourself, Isabelle. Killing and sealing three gods in less than forty-eight hours tends to get noticed around here."

"Well, actually, Lucas killed one of them," she corrected softly. Daedalus gave her a look that clearly said it didn't matter and she bit her lip. Lucas came back in wearing a Batman t-shirt and the god leaned forward to pass him the water bottle as he took a seat. Daedalus opened his coke and took a sip, leaning his arms on his knees and giving the pair a searching look.

After almost a full minute of silence, Isabelle plucked up the courage to talk. "Um... Daedalus, sir?"

The god grinned and waved his hand. "You don't have to be so formal, Isabelle. I'm not one of those god's who'll smite you if I think you're disrespectful. What's on your mind?"

"I was just wanting to ask about my mother," she continued shyly. "I mean, I've been gone a couple of days and Lucas said time moves differently, so it has to be even longer at home. My parents must be really worried."

For some reason, this seemed to amuse Daedalus and he pulled a pamphlet out of his jeans pocket and handed it to her before leaning back to snag some peanut m&ms from a bowl at his elbow. "Actually, lucky girl, _you _checked yourself into the Lakeside Psychiatric Facility a week ago for a much-needed rest."

Isabelle stared numbly at the pamphlet. It was covered with pictures of a beautiful, white stone building set in verdant green lawns. Patients in robes and wheelchairs with family members and nurses smiling down at them. Patients painting, laughing, talking in groups. It looked so picturesque and innocent that she knew it couldn't possibly be true.

Share stared at him in astonishment. "So... your answer to my disappearance is to say that I've gone mental? What will happen when my family goes to visit and I'm not there?"

Daedalus ignored her outrage and picked up the remote control for the television. "But you _are_ there, Isabelle. See for yourself."

She turned to the screen and saw what appeared to be a closed-circuit recording of a sparse clinical room. People in robes roamed about listlessly, played cards, or just stared into space. She gasped when she recognized herself. She was sitting in a yellow terrycloth robe in her blue pajamas and green slippers staring out a window.

"You see? You're right there just in case anyone comes poking around. But they probably won't. People don't like asylums, Isabelle. And gods know _your_ family isn't going to want to stay anywhere as depressing as _that_, even to visit their only child."

It made sense. Terrible sense. She was sure he was right, even as she wished he was wrong. "So... that girl. Me. I'll be walking around talking and living my life? Why couldn't she just keep living for me?"

Daedalus looked thoughtful as he answered. "Would you really want to go back and have your life already half-lived for you? Memories and relationships progressed to a point you don't recognize? With a high-functioning double, you could get married, get a new job, any number of things. You could get hit by a bus. Or win the lottery. Who knows? It's better this way. This clone is low functioning. She hardly talks, but goes through the motions. She's mostly just an empty shell."

"But what if something happens to me inside the asylum?" she asked fearfully.

Daedalus smiled and shook his head. "You watch too many horror movies, Isabelle. There are no mad scientist performing inhumane experiments on human subjects at Lakeside."

She felt her stomach do a flip and Lucas, who had been quiet up until that point, slid his hand into hers, tightly entwining their fingers. She turned to look at him and he smiled reassuringly. "We're just trying to help you, Isabelle. We like to keep our bases covered."

"What happens now, though? If I'm really a- a star, what do we do?" Isabelle turned to look at Daedalus with mounting concern.

He let out a low chuckle and reached over his back for a guitar. It was burnished copper with cogs and gears set into the body. He checked his fingering before answering. "Well, Isabelle, that's part of what I wanted to talk to you about. You see, I didn't just go talk to your mom to find out about your drink preferences or to sample her _fantastic _butter pecan cookies. I wanted some more information about the girl who showed up out of nowhere by accident and did something that's difficult for the most skilled members of the Order at the best of times. Twice. Especially after the dragon came to visit me."

"So you knew Isabelle was a star _before _talking to Mortimer?" Lucas concluded in surprise.

"Apalala-sama knows I have little patience for riddles," he said honestly. "From what he told me, it would seem that Mortimer's conclusions were wrong. He told you Isabelle was some sort of genetic fluke. A freak of breeding that cropped up after hundreds or thousands of generations with powers that were even greater than the gods."

Lucas nodded, uncomprehendingly while the god played on and explained. "Well, I _could_ give you the math, but the short of it is that it'spretty damn-near impossible for that to have happened. Isabelle's got _new _celestialblood. Potent. Full of energy. But it has been dormant her whole life almost as if something was suppressing it."

Isabelle could feel him leading them, prompting them to come to their own conclusions. Even so, she asked, "How is that possible if stars haven't come to earth in years?"

"Obviously one _has_," Lucas filled in, keeping his eyes on the god. "Your power wouldn't be this strong if it was just a weak genetic print. Besides that, how would they know to suppress the power if it was an accident? That's why you needed to talk to Isabelle's parents."

Isabelle tilted her head to the side, furrowing her brow as she considered her parents. Were they implying one of them was a star? Her father- the rundown alcoholic with a half-assed resentment for life? Her mother- the manipulative mega-bitch dying for love which she would inevitably destroy? Neither of them seemed like they would be likely candidates for super-godhood. There was something that she was missing.

Daedalus had given them a minute to think while he jammed. Sensing their readiness, he continued: "I talked to your dad first, ball of sunshine _he_ is. He thought I was one of your doctors coming to talk about underlying issues. Apart from hating the government and his ex-wife, he's got a job interview for the first time in five years. Looks like you leaving him was just the kick in the ass he needed."

For some reason, it seemed odd for a god to say ass, but Isabelle couldn't deny her pleasure that her father was finally doing something other than drinking his days away. Lucas broke into her musings. "So what else did you learn about her dad?"

"Nothing. He's just an average guy. He played rugby in high school. Worked for the phone company for fifteen years before he hurt his back. He married your mom six months after he met her and had you six months after that. He's lived within the same fifty mile radius his entire life. He doesn't even have a passport."

"So... it's my mom?" Isabelle filled in.

Daedalus set aside his guitar. "Well, that's where it gets interesting. You're mother moved around a lot when she was younger. She's worked at least twenty different jobs, attended seven different schools. She had her first child when she was sixteen and gave it up for adoption. Over the next four years, she had three abortions."

"_What?_" Isabelle interrupted incredulously. Her mother had never mentioned anything like this!

"She was a bit of a wild child," Daedalus added reluctantly. "She met your dad when she was your age and they got married, but she didn't settle down for long..."

He let the sentence hang, giving them a significant look. The revelation hit full force. "She cheated on my dad," Isabelle breathed.

"Well, technically, she cheated on her _husband_," Daedalus corrected.

Isabelle closed her eyes, trying to sort through the pieces of information. The man she had grown up with was not her father. The man she had lived with her entire life, put up with his drinking and beatings and vomit, payed for the roof over his head was not her father. Who was, then? She asked Daedalus.

"Actually, he was a one night stand," he told her guiltily. "She didn't remember a lot about him other than he was blonde and gorgeous, but she did have a name."

Lucas sat a little straighter. "Who was it? If we know the name, we could figure out why he came here. Maybe he had some purpose for Isabelle."

She was not taking the news half as well. It was a bit of a shock to find out that not only were your parents _always_ in a loveless marriage, but your real father hadn't even _had_ a real relationship with your mother. That meant her life had been planned, scripted from the beginning. Everything that had happened was _supposed _to happen. She was just a pawn. A chess piece. She wasn't a person. She was a strategy. Besides that, now she had three parents who didn't love her.

"Micah."

Isabelle looked up at the name. It didn't mean anything to her, but Lucas seemed impressed. "Was she sure?"

"Do you think someone would pretend to be him?" Daedalus asked by way of response.

"Who's Micah?" Isabelle interrupted.

Lucas shifted to look at her. "Well, besides being your father, he's got a reputation for being very old and very wise. In Catholic mythology, he's an angel. He's known as the Angel of the Divine Plan."

"He's supposed to watch over spiritual evolution and reveal God's divine plan," Daedalus filled in. "Which means your dad is, like, the great grandaddy of the gods. And he came _here _**just to make you**. With the powers he's given you, you're even greater than a regular half-human. You're at the level of the gods."

Isabelle wasn't as thrilled as it seemed they expected her to be. "So, if Micah came here just to make me, does that mean he knew something? Somehow, he knew that I would be needed. Which means that something is coming. Something bad, just like Apalala said."

Daedalus tapped his nose and pointed at her. Lucas smiled wryly. "And let me guess: We have no idea where the threat is coming from."

"Bingo," Daedalus laughed, leaning back in his chair. "As far as I know, there's not a whisper from the usual suspects. My guess is that it could be something your dad's come up against before. That's why _he _would come in particular. If he had defeated it already, obviously a child imbued with his powers would stand a good chance of doing the same thing."

"Why couldn't he just do it?" Isabelle asked sharply. "If he's already faced it, why take a gamble on me?"

Daedalus and Lucas exchanged a glance. "Who knows? Stars keep their own counsel, but they always have reasons for what they do."

"Any idea of a monster Micah would have come up against?" Isabelle prompted, wanting to be prepared.

The god shrugged and kicked his foot up on the coffee table. "Must've been before my time. I've met only a handful of Stars in the past ten thousand years."

"So what do we do?" Lucas broke in.

"The Patrons will be meeting in three weeks to discuss it. Between now and then, it'll be your job to help her train, Luke. Help her get in control so that we're as prepared as we can be for whatever comes next."

"Why are they waiting so long for something this important?" Isabelle complained.

Daedalus shrugged his shoulders. "Some of them like to stand on tradition. Others are just busy."

"Like that's an excuse," she snorted indelicately.

Daedalus smiled, completely unperturbed. "You're still upset about your dad, aren't you? I'll tell you this: almost without exception, Stars are mysterious and purposeful. Your dad _was_ the exception. He doesn't beat around the bush- if something needs done or said, he takes action. He doesn't mess around with riddles or manipulation. Some of his fellows felt he was too radical. That's why he hasn't been seen in the past six thousand years. On the bright side, you can rest assured he didn't cross the universe just to get laid."

"Somehow that's less than comforting," Isabelle drawled wryly.

"It shouldn't be," Daedalus pointed out. "After all, gods and demons, all these higher beings are known for taking advantage of mortals. That's why there are so many kids like Luke running around. But you- you're something unique. You were planned. He needed you. He wanted you and he's done all he can to make sure you get to your destiny."

"I think I'd feel better if I had known he existed before ten minutes ago," Isabelle replied sarcastically.

Lucas squeezed her hand, trying to make her feel better. "He didn't forget you, Isabelle," he assured her softly. "Even though you didn't know about him, he knew about you. He's probably watched you your whole life."

"I think I need some time," Isabelle explained. She knew he was trying to help. She understood how they both felt- excited, nervous, awed, compassionate. There was just so much she didn't know and didn't understand. She felt so conflicted.

They said their goodbyes to Daedalus and left the room. As if he had known what they needed, they found themselves in a zen-style garden. It was completely empty, save for the buddhist statues and cherry-blossom trees. There was a small building that looked like a shrine set next to an aqua swimming pool on the far edge of the garden. Isabelle walked toward it.

"Who is this shrine for?" she asked softly.

Lucas stood on one of the steps and looked inside. "No one. It's empty."

Isabelle glanced around. "So why are we here?"

"Daedalus probably thought it would be best for us to get some alone time," Lucas surmised quietly. He looked at her. "Are you all right?"

"I'm really not," she answered in a teary voice, keeping her face averted. He tried to pull her toward him, but she resisted for the first time. She released his hand and went inside the shrine. To her surprise, there was a folded kimono laying on the floor beside the door. She lifted the light fabric. It was pale blue with a light sprinkling of pink cherry blossoms at the bottom and across one of the arms. Looking down, she realized her clothes were stiff and scratchy from the time they had spent in the springs.

"Daedalus probably sent that for you," Lucas spoke up from behind her. "Have you ever worn a furisode before?"

She shook her head, keeping her back to him. "What's a furisode? I thought this was a kimono."

"Well, it's kinda the same thing, only the sleeves are longer and traditionally a furisode is reserved for a young unmarried woman," he explained. "Would you like some help with it?"

Isabelle nodded and handed him the garment before quickly slipping out of her own clothes. Lucas gently tucked her into the soft robes before tying a light pink band around her waist. With gentle hands, he reached up to pull her hair into a loose bun at the back of her head. When that was done, he stood back to admire his work. "You look lovely. How do you feel?"

She shrugged, her cheeks turning pink as she stared at the floor. One thing was for sure: it was more comfortable than she thought it would be. It felt as though she was trying to live two different lives: that of a five-year-old preening in her play clothes and that of a twenty-year-old feeling very foolish and self-conscious. Lucas stood stubbornly in front of her, waiting for her to meet his gaze.

"You know, Daedalus was right. You're not the only person this has happened to," he told her in a low voice. "I'm one of two people in the entire Order that has power over all of the elements. You want to know the reason I'm so powerful? It's because of my grandmother."

Isabelle finally looked up. "What happened to her?"

He took her hand and led her toward the pond. "She was a good lady. She had a normal life like you. She'd never even considered that there was anything more to life until Kronos took notice of her. He kidnapped her from her home and raped her every day for three months. He barely fed her or gave her anything for comfort, just used her body until it was all dried up. She nearly died. When she got pregnant, he just tossed her out."

He sounded so bitter. So angry. So uncharacteristically Lucas that she felt tears sting her eyes. He finished in a gruff voice as he stared down into the water. "She died giving birth to my dad. She'd had a husband and daughter in her old life. They never found out what happened to her. That's why I'm so strong. My dad's intensely powerful, but he won't use it because of what his father did. At least _your _mother consented."

Isabelle reached up and put her arms around him, pulling him against her. She could feel his pain beneath all the bluster. His shame. Like he felt guilty for being born with so much power. As if using it, even for a good purpose, was a betrayal of his family; his humanity. She brushed her fingers through his hair, wanting to comfort him. Slowly, he relaxed against her. Leaning his head on her shoulder and cradling her securely against him.

"I'm sorry," she whispered fervently. She had little practice with comforting someone who wasn't drunk or intensely dedicated to feeling sorry for themselves, so she wasn't sure what else to say. Then he smiled at her and suddenly, she didn't _have _to say anything.

"Don't worry about it, Isabelle," he told her kindly. He took a seat on the grass and kicked off his socks, dangling his toes in the water. After a moment, she joined him, but curled her feet under her instead of soaking them. She didn't know if she would ever look at water the same way again after coming here.

"I guess my problems aren't so bad..." she admitted glumly. "It's still just a hard thing to get used to. I mean, I had no idea. No clue that my dad wasn't... _my dad_."

Lucas leaned back on his elbows and looked up at her. "Most of the time you don't ever find out. The Others tend to have a lot of kids and they either forget them or don't care about claiming them."

"But you said I'm different, right?" she asked thoughtfully. "Micah _meant_ to have me. He must've had some contact if he's been suppressing me."

"Well is there any sort of repeating theme in your life?" Lucas reflected. "Does it rain when you're unhappy or anything like that?"

She shrugged. "I like the rain."

As if someone had flicked a switch, the skies overhead darkened and torrential rain came pouring down. Isabelle yelped in surprise and Lucas laughed. Surprising as it was, the rain was cool and refreshing. It soaked them quickly as they sat in surprise. Lucas pushed himself off the ground and grabbed her hands, dragging her to her feet and running to the empty shrine. They slid inside, clutching one another as they stared out at the downpour.

"Where did that come from?" she gasped. She turned to look at him with wide eyes. "Did I-?"

"No, Isabelle," he interrupted quickly. "It's not you, it's this place. It's sensitive to moods and feelings. When you said you like rain, it did its best to oblige."

She nodded, feeling foolish. She had thought for a moment that it was her father. Shooting him an impish grin, she edged toward the door. "I wasn't allowed to play in the rain when I was little. Mum thought it'd make me sick."

Lucas' mischievous expression matched her own and he took her hand. "You want to go out? After all, this rain is for you."

She hesitated for a few seconds, delicious excitement building inside of her stomach. Finally, she shot out into the rain, shrieking with laughter. Lucas raced after her, catching her around the waist and lifting her from the ground, spinning her as she giggled uproariously. His foot caught on a stone and he fell backward with her crashing down on top of him. He threw out a hand and the rain seemed to congeal, cushioning their fall and sending them rolling toward the pond. Isabelle gasped and clutched his shirt as they hit the water.

The pond was warm and comforting, a welcome change from the cool rain. Isabelle released Lucas and kicked to the surface, her legs tangling in the trailing folds of her robes. With effort, she broke into the air, whipping in a quick circle as she looked for Lucas. The rain on the water made it almost impossible for her to see where he would be. When he didn't come up, she went under again, peering around under the gloomy water for his familiar figure. A ribbon of cool water threaded itself between her bare toes and she pushed herself back up, giggling and jerking her foot away from the presence.

The tickling ceased and she treaded water, waiting. Her spine tingled with irrational fear and anticipation as she kept herself alert for some sign of his presence. Lucas surfaced silently behind her, a wicked grin on his face. He grabbed her around the waist and she screamed, wrestling with him playfully. Somehow, she got turned around so that they were pressed chest to chest and face to face. The wild patter of her heart slowed and his eyes suddenly became intense. Unconsciously, she leaned forward.

Lucas turned his face to the side and she could feel his body stiffen. "We should probably get out and dry off," he murmured in a low voice.

"Yeah..." she sighed even as keen embarrassment flooded her being. Without looking at him, she pushed away and swam to the edge of the pool, heavily dragging herself out onto the grass.

"Isabelle," he called patiently from behind her.

She ignored him, marching resolutely toward the shrine. He jogged up beside her and she refused to look at him. Finally, he caught her arm and pulled her to a stop. She spun toward him, hot angry tears burning down her cheeks. He looked miserable. "_What_, Lucas?" she cried impatiently.

"It's not... I just... I want you to know-" He broke off, frustrated. He took a few paces away from her, reaching up to vigorously rub his hair before stomping back. "Don't be mad."

"I'm not mad. I'm confused and embarrassed," she admitted fiercely. "I don't want to play games, Lucas."

She could see he was getting angry at himself as he raked a hand through his hair. "This isn't a game, Isabelle it's... I _do _care about you!"

"Maybe you should take some time to figure out exactly how you feel about me before kissing me and holding my hand," she suggested sadly. "Because I enjoy it too much for you not to be sure."

She left him standing miserably in the rain. She wasn't sure where she would end up when she went through the door on the edge of the garden, but she knew they both needed some time to think.


	8. Not quite heaven

Chapter 8

Isabelle hit the floor with a loud grunt before glaring up at Lucas. "You need to _block_, Isabelle," he reminded her unnecessarily. He reached down to offer her a hand up and she took it, groaning as she worked her sore muscles.

Lucas had begun training her three weeks ago and he pushed her every day with grueling weapons and combat exercises. That piled on top of daily sessions working on controlling her powers with Mortimer and The Professor in conjunction with nightly research into what menace they could possibly be facing meant Isabelle fell into bed every night. She felt like she hadn't touched a book for leisure in months.

"You're still weak on your left side, Isabelle," Lucas warned her kindly.

She hefted the staff she had been working with and sighed, "I know... I know..."

Dropping his staff to rest against his thighs, he gave her an exasperated look. "This is _important_, Isabelle. You can't only rely on your Powers- you don't have enough control yet. These skills could mean the difference between life and death."

"I know, Lucas!" she cried brusquely, allowing the brunt of her staff to thump against the ground. "I haven't had years to train like you. Look, I know we don't have the luxury of time, but you can't expect me to master everything in just a few short weeks."

He didn't touch her or say anything, but she could feel his disappointment. It upset her more than anything he could have said. Finally, he smiled at her. "Why don't we skip hand to hand today? We could go do something fun."

She stared at him dubiously. "You don't have anything else to do?"

He had been busy a lot lately. Practically the only time she was able to see him was during fighting practice. Unbeknownst to her, he had fought just to reserve that time. Lucas leaned against his staff and wiped some sweat off his forehead before giving her a full grin. "Of course not. This is your time. What do you say we have a little fun?"

Finally she laughed and shook her head. "Okay! Let me go change and I'll be right out."

"Wear something nice!" he called after her.

"I always do!" she shouted back with a chuckle. After a quick shower, she put on a cream paisley shirt with brown trousers. In a few minutes, she returned to the exercise area, where Lucas was waiting for her. She tilted her head to the side and smiled. "Is this okay?"

Taking a step forward, he kissed her forehead before smiling down into her eyes. "You look lovely, but it's snowing, so you'll need a coat."

He pulled a green peacoat out from behind his back and helped her into it. She buttoned it following him out into the hall before jogging to his side. Catching his hand in hers, she gave him an excited look. "So, where are we going?"

"You'll see..." he teased merrily.

"Is this a date?" she asked quietly, looking at the ground.

Lucas didn't answer her for a moment and her heart dropped. After their time in the garden, Isabelle had made a point to refuse some of his affection. He had become much more aware of when he gave it after that, and given her the chance to take the lead. This was the first time she had taken his hand since that day.

"I guess it is," he remarked quietly.

She stared up at him and he gave her a tender smile. A minute later they materialized outside, where snow was falling softly around them. They were on a normal street with cars and pedestrians passing them by without a single glance. Isabelle stared around in surprise. They were back! She couldn't believe it! She wasn't given any extra time to think about it, though, as Lucas tugged her forward. They were in front of an enormous museum complete with wide stone steps and roman columns. She gasped in delight, then raced up the steps beside him. He bought two tickets and took her inside.

They wandered for hours amid the fine art and ancient artifacts, all described to her anew as Lucas kept up an interesting dialogue about the true history behind the relics. The statue of Rameses II had been damaged before it was finished by Rameses himself. He thought the artist was making his nose too big, so he had used a special talisman to shoot lightning bolts at the man. Picasso was not, as everyone believed, a misunderstood genius, but an alien who _actually_ saw the world differently. And the Jade Emperor was actually a demon who was eventually sorted out by Nick, one of the Patrons of the Order.

Isabelle was laughing at his explanation of why a certain sculpture was missing an arm when she caught sight of a strange man moving toward them. What first caught her attention was that he was only wearing a pair of loose black pants. He walked between the other museum patrons, right in front of a security guard, but no one even looked at him. She then noticed that he had strange patches of tattoos all over his skin. As he came closer, however, she realized that the patches were not tattoos, but worn holes that revealed cogs and mechanics working furiously underneath the skin. Instinctively, she tensed, immediately drawing Lucas's attention. Though he frowned, he began making his way toward the stranger.

"You knew the Patrons were meeting about you today, right?" he asked quietly. Seeing her expression, he realized that she had not. "Well, it looks like they want to meet with you. Hello, Noah."

The animatronic man, who face was rigid, nodded tersely as he stood in front of him.

"Can we have a moment to change so that we'll be presentable?"

He received another stiff nod in return and, before Isabelle could tell what had happened, the museum around them melted and the Order's clothing room sprang into focus around them. Lucas held up a dress and Isabelle stared at it then at him. It looked like a wedding dress from the twenties, all white satin and lace with a very loose fit. "I know it's not fantastic, but put it on. You have to wear white to meet with the Patrons and this has pockets."

"Really? That's a rule and this is the only white dress you have with pockets?" Isabelle asked skeptically.

Lucas gave a heavy sigh and an impatient look as he shook the dress. "It's the only one with pockets that'll fit you."

Isabelle was not convinced, but took the garment in her hands. "What do I need pockets for, anyway?"

"You never know when they might come in handy. Just put it on," Lucas explained hurriedly. Turning his back on her, he tugged his own shirt over his head and began to change into a white suit. Isabelle sighed and undressed, amused when Lucas tossed her white underwear, stockings, and shoes to add to the ensemble. As she pulled on the stockings, he came up behind her and pulled her hair back with a few pins into a relatively respectable bun.

"Another tradition?" she asked wryly as she checked her appearance in the mirror. It wasn't as bad as she had thought, and the dress was intensely comfortable.

Rather than respond, he caught her face in his hands and kissed her gently. Had she been expecting it, she might have stopped him. As it was, she could only manage to cling to his forearms before he broke the kiss and gazed down at her intently, without a trace of his usual grin. "Good luck."

Swallowing convulsively, she nodded and took his hand. Her future might ride on the next few minutes. Following Noah, they went through the door which should have led to a hallway, but instead opened directly into a wide room, surrounded on all sides by windows that looked out onto verdant lawns. The first person Isabelle noticed was Daedalus, who had swapped his t-shirt and for a white buttoned shirt. He smiled enigmatically at her as Noah took his place beside him and he motioned the pair into the center of the seating area where Isabelle's attention was immediately commandeered by a gorgeous woman sitting in one of the chairs.

She had creamy dark skin with floor-length black dread locks and sparkling hazel eyes. She was by far the most beautiful woman Isabelle had ever seen, and she was completely naked save for a gauzy scarf over her hair, a bit of make up, and a pair of gold earrings. She was lounging in a fluffy white chair, watching a thin boy in gold shorts playing on a pipe.

Isabelle could only stare at her until a puff of smoke in her face caused her eyes to water. She looked to the side and caught sight of a plump Indian man whose face was equal parts round coke-bottle glasses, fat squashy nose, and thick walrus mustache. He was wearing a thin white t-shirt over ragged sweatpants and staring into a book he held in one hand, while he raised a long thin pipe in the other and held a cup of coffee in the other... wait. Isabelle blinked. The man had two arms. She stared hard and suddenly there were four.

"Don't worry too much about it," Lucas's low voice reached her ears. "It'll just make your head hurt."

She looked at him to nod when she caught sight of yet another man sitting on the far side of the room between two enormous snowy white poodles. He wore a thick, red plaid shirt and burlap pants tucked into heavy snow boots. Though his brown hair was cropped close to his head, he had a scruffy beard and was regarding her with serious blue eyes.

The last person in the room sat beside the window with a squash-faced kitten in her lap. She looked like a small child of no more than seven or eight wearing a pretty white dress, glittering strings of pearls, and vibrant white daisies twisted through her curly brown hair. She smiled at Isabelle with cherubic golden eyes as the kitten lifted off her lap using its semi-transparent wings.

"Well, now that everyone's here, we can get down to business," Daedalus announced briskly as he took his seat and motioned Isabelle and Lucas to their own. She sat nervously, immediately becoming the focus of scrutiny as Daedalus made introductions. "As we all know, this is Isabelle and Lucas. Isabelle, this is Nick, Bast, Ganesha, and Huitaca."

"Doesn't look like much, does she?" the little girl mused idly petting her cat.

"Don' be so quick to judge, Bast," Huitaca said in a lilting, Jamaican accent as she leaned forward and crossed her legs.

"After all, the most spectacular gifts often come in odd wrappings," Nick mused thoughtfully. Ganesha puffed harder on his pipe as his magnified eyes watched every tic of movement in Isabelle's face. Daedalus was just as silent, regarding the proceedings from behind his guitar.

"You don't really think she's a _gift_, Nick?" Bast scoffed lightly. "I say we take the power for ourselves and deal with whatever comes along after."

Each of the gods made small, incomprehensible murmurs in response to this suggestion, as though they were conferring with each other or their companions. Isabelle felt the blood rushing in her ears as she turned to look at Lucas over her shoulder. He smiled readily, but she could see the nerves lying behind his eyes.

"I think we can all agree that rash action is the last thing we need," Nick's gruff voice cut through the tense whispering.

"But we can't risk having anyone else get their hands on her," Bast contradicted reasonably. "If she is Micah's daughter, she's too powerful to be left to her own devices."

"I'm not sure how much longer we can keep up our defenses," Daedalus admitted in a quiet voice. "We have members working round the clock just to keep the borders safe. It's only a matter of time before something slips through."

Isabelle felt her heart stop at these words. Was that why she hardly saw Lucas anymore? Was she drawing danger to this haven? Where would they take her that she wouldn't bring catastrophe? Bast spoke up once more, regarding her strictly with those fathomless, golden eyes. "I say we send her back where she came from. Let the Stars deal with her."

"You are too reckless today, Bast," Huitaca scolded sharply. "The girl must stay with the Order. It is the only safe place."

"There's always the Citadel," Nick suggested blandly.

"What does the girl say?" a dim, croaky voice asked behind her. She turned to find that Ganesha had removed his pipe, but was watching her no less intently.

Isabelle took in a great gulp of air and flushed as she realized all eyes were on her. Finally, she replied, "Well, I don't pretend to understand everything that's going on, but I will leave if I'm putting anyone in danger."

"Will the Citadel shield her well enough?" Daedalus asked curiously, ignoring the alarmed looks Lucas was shooting in his direction.

"It shouldn't be a problem," Nick replied thoughtfully. "With Kui-Xing there to guard her, I doubt anything would find her."

"What about her training?" Lucas asked suddenly. Unlike Isabelle, Lucas knew what the Citadel was: a quarantine. The building was made of a powerful stone that blocked spiritual energy. He had been fighting the urge to interrupt for several minutes, but the prospect of having Isabelle sent completely out of reach was unbearable.

"The Professor can visit her occasionally, I suppose. He's the only one who can come and go undetected. I trust she's been trained well enough to continue on her own," Nick told him easily, his chilly blue eyes studying the young man's anxious face.

Isabelle felt a thrill of fear as the door behind them opened and an enormous, lumpy figure limped into the room. He wore vibrant red robes that contrasted sharply with his ugly, gray complexion. His nose was large and pointy over a thin, wide mouth and he inhaled greedily as his bulging red eyes eagerly dug into her skin.

"Ah, Xing, right on time," Bast spoke up quickly, drawing Isabelle's gaze. If they had been expecting him, that meant they had already made the decision before she had come. Her stomach gave an unpleasant jolt as she realized this. "This is the girl. Take her away and guard her well."

"The girl needs a moment to adjust," Ganesha rumbled from her side.

Bast gave him a grumpy look and crossed her arms over her chest. "Very well. Daedalus..."

Lucas moved forward and took her numb hand, leading her through an inconspicuous door that sat on the far side of the room. They entered what appeared to be a waiting area, only there was only one door that led back into the conference room. Once inside, Isabelle sank numbly into one of the uncomfortable chairs and stared sightlessly out the windows and Lucas took a seat beside her, putting his arm around her protectively.

"Will you be safe?" Isabelle asked quietly. "If I'm gone, they'll stop attacking and everyone here will be safe, right?"

"Safe as houses," Lucas replied solemnly. "You'll be safe too. Xing's a bit disconcerting, but he's cunning and strong. There's no better place for you to be."

"Apalala-sama said my safest place is with you," Isabelle pointed out.

Lucas nodded, his brown eyes flashing thoughtfully behind his glasses. "I'll ask Daedalus about that. If I could come with you, would you want me to?"

Isabelle was torn. The first thought that came to her mind was an emphatic yes, but it wasn't as simple as that. Lucas had family and obligations to the Order. He couldn't just drop out of all of that because she felt nervous about being without him. She also knew that the danger would probably follow her wherever she went. Finally, she shrugged. "I want you to be safe."

"Don't worry about me. I'm always fine," he told her with a buoyant grin.

"Well, I'm not," she admitted quietly, tears creeping into her eyes. "Lucas? Will you please kiss me before they come to take me away?"

His eyes softened and he reached up and pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. Dropping his hand to her cheek, he leaned forward and kissed her gently. Isabelle closed her eyes as her head spun. The door opened as Lucas began to deepen the kiss, effectively breaking them apart. Impassive as ever, Noah stood in the doorway waiting for them.

Heart in her throat, Isabelle stood and Lucas slipped his hand into hers. They went back into the room to find Daedalus sitting near Xing, his fingers steepled in front of him. Instantly, Lucas moved in front of her. "Daedalus, I-"

"We need you here, Luke," the god interrupted quickly. "I know you don't want to leave her alone, but I believe Xing is fully capable of keeping her hidden. Have a little faith."

"Come with me, my dear," Xing cooed in a scratchy, gurgling voice. He held out his blunt, dirty hand to her eagerly and she shot an apprehensive look at Daedalus and Lucas. If she expected some encouragement, she was to be disappointed. Daedalus's face was completely inscrutable while Lucas's shone lightly with misgivings. After a moment, he leaned over and kissed her on the temple before releasing her hand.

She moved to the hulking man's side and he clutched her hand in his great, dirty paw. She had a moment to look up at the pair before her. Lucas did his best to put on a brave face and he smiled at her. "I'll see you soon, Isabelle."

She swallowed and nodded, but the room swam before her eyes and she felt distinctly queazy. In the next instant, her eyes cleared and she was in a cool, circular room lined with blue stones. "Your cell, my dear," Xing hissed cheerfully, turning and rubbing a single blunt digit down her cheek.

Isabelle instantly cringed away from him, dropping his hand and moving to the low bed under a narrow slit of skylight. Outside of a toilet, the bed was the only other object in the room. Xing watched her with an ugly leer on his face before shuffling to the blank cell wall and putting his palm against the cool surface. "Call if you need anything."

Isabelle shivered through the rest of the day and night, accompanied only by the sounds of her stomach rumbling. She had eaten breakfast earlier, but Xing did not return the rest of the day. There were stars twinkling down from the skylight by the time she seriously considered calling the grotesque man back into the room. Giving a heavy sigh, she pushed herself off the bed and was about to cross to the far wall when a serene glow overhead caught her eye. She glanced up with a slight frown, looking for the source of the light. The sky looked the same as it had before.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" A man's voice asked from the direction of her bed.

She turned in surprise to find an incredibly handsome man standing several feet from her. He had curly, shaggy brown hair, olive skin, and a perfect face set with luminescent silver eyes. He wore a pale white toga draped around his chiseled body, threaded expertly between an enormous pair of white wings.

"Who are you?" she asked softly, forgetting her manors.

To her surprise, the handsome man merely smiled and took a step toward her. "I'm here to help you, Isabelle."

Something in his tone and face made her want to trust him, a fact which immediately put her on guard and she backed up a pace, eyeing him skeptically. "Why won't you tell me who you are, then?"

"You're just as clever as we thought you would be," he chuckled enigmatically. "You get that from our side. I'm your uncle, Isabelle. You can call me Lucy. Your Aunt does."

Isabelle goggled at him curiously before asking, "Why are you here? I didn't know I had any other family."

Her uncle smiled at her as if he was delighted with everything she said. "I've come to help you find your way. I even brought something for you if you'd like it. You can think of it as a really belated birthday present."

He produced a silver bracelet with pearly black beads from nowhere and Isabelle took a hesitant step toward him. It looked like a rosary, but the beads seemed to swirl and shimmer with their own starry light and the silver links felt icy cold when she closed her hand around them. As she fastened it around her wrist, it shrank to a comfortable length and glimmered faintly every time she moved her arm. "Thank you... Uncle. What is it for?"

"It will help you travel. Would you like to come meet your father?" he asked kindly, holding out his hand for her.

Isabelle glanced behind her, thinking of Lucas. "How long will I be gone?"

"If you're worried about your friend, you can leave him a note," her uncle offered helpfully. "We'll only be gone for a few days."

Isabelle timidly agreed to this plan, accepting the glowing parchment and pen from him and writing a short note for Lucas. After she had finished, her uncle took it from her and folded it up into a little crane. When he blew on it, it began flapping its delicate paper wings and lifted away from his palm, flying up through the skylight and disappearing into the night.

Isabelle watched it go with a sensation of childish awe before looking back at her uncle. He smiled at her kindly and held out his hand for her once more. She took it without hesitation and was immediately pulled into his arms. "This might be a bit uncomfortable. Just hold your breath and keep a tight hold on me."

"Okay," she replied nervously, wrapping her arms around his waist.

"Mind the wings," he chuckled when her fingers brushed up against the downy feathers, causing her to giggle anxiously. "All right, Isabelle. Here we go."

She clenched her arms tighter around him as her body suddenly lost touch with gravity. Taking a deep breath, she was suddenly launched upward. Outside of the rock solid body of her uncle before her and a loud rush of motion throbbing in her ears, she couldn't sense anything else around her. Her lungs were close to bursting by the time they stopped, but she continued to clutch onto him with her eyes squeezed shut and breath trapped in her lungs until she heard him chuckle.

"You can let go now, Isabelle. We're here."

She blinked and released him, taking a short step back and staring around her in shock. The city she had been brought to shattered every expectation she had ever had about where the Stars lived. The ground beneath her feet was a smooth, dark stone, mirroring the towering edifices reaching up on all sides. She could see a silver sliver of moon up in the sky and the buildings were like carved black marble with brilliant white lights glimmering through the cornucopia of windows and doorways.

Her uncle startled her by reaching out and taking her hand and he smiled when she looked at him. "Let's go find my brother."

She nodded mutely and followed him through the maze of passages. After a few minutes of walking, she asked, "Where are all of the people?"

Her uncle smiled down at her fondly before replying: "Where do you think Stars are at this hour?"

Isabelle couldn't help but giggle at the question, but was saved from answering by him drawing her into one of the wide, brightly lit passageways. They moved into a warm blue room that was filled with flowing carvings and graceful furniture. Isabelle only had a moment to take all of this in before a woman in a flowing black furisode launched herself at her, gathering her up in a tight hug. She had floor-length white hair and delicate features with the same silver eyes as her uncle.

"Give her some time, Cassie!" her uncle chastised sharply, drawing a sheepish grin from the lovely woman. "Isabelle, this is your Aunt Cassiel."

"Just Cassie is fine," the older woman assured her, stepping back to take stock of her niece. "Oh, just look at you. You're so beautiful! That young man Lucas is _very_ lucky."

"How do you know about Lucas?" Isabelle asked anxiously as the woman took her hand and started leading her through the extravagant house. She was having a little trouble finding her feet with these new family members who seemed so fond of her. She still wasn't used to familial affection.

In answer, her aunt tapped a long, thin finger on the side of her perfect nose and gave her a sly smile. "Oh, we Stars aren't as far away as humans think these days."

They stopped at what appeared to be the top of the house, which hosted a large, square room filled with windows on all sides. A man stood at the far end of the room with his hands clasped casually behind his back as he looked out into the darkness. He wore a simple gray suit with a blue shirt and brown wingtip shoes. When he turned, she was shocked by his devastatingly handsome features, perfect golden skin, silver eyes and a wide, charming smile. Her aunt urged her toward him and they stared at one another hesitantly for almost a full minute.

"Dad?" Isabelle asked quietly, feeling a rush of inexplicable tears fill her eyes when he smiled in relief.

He crossed the room in a few steps and put his arms around her, holding her tightly, protectively. He brushed his hand down her hair, as though he was uncertain she was really there. "My little girl," he sighed happily, kissing the top of her head before taking a step back to smile down at her proudly.

Isabelle was in shock. She knew her father would be handsome, but he seemed to be only a few years older than she was. And he didn't seem like he had simply gotten a woman pregnant to breed a weapon. He seemed like he had _missed_ her. Like he loved her.

"Did you get here okay? You must be hungry, you've hardly eaten today. Are you warm enough?" he said so quickly that she nearly laughed. He put his hands on the side of her face and tenderly kissed her forehead before grinning at her. "I'm so glad you're here, Isabelle."

"Why don't we all take a seat?" Cassie suggested, leading the way to a small cluster of chairs.

They were soon seated and Isabelle was provided with a warm blue blanket embroidered with stars and a plate full of food she didn't recognize, but tasted delicious. After she was settled, she looked up to find everyone looking at her expectantly and she smiled shyly. After a moment, her father turned to his brother and said, "You didn't do anything dangerous getting her here, did you Lucifer?"

"Just jumped a few dimensions- took the shorter route," he explained airily, leaning forward and plucking a purple fruit from her plate to pop into his mouth.

Isabelle couldn't think of anything else to say, so she looked at him with a raised eyebrow and asked, "Lucifer?"

He grinned at her, completely unabashed and said, "Yeah, well, thanks to Chris I have quite a reputation on Earth. I thought you'd be more likely to trust me if we just stuck with Uncle Lucy."

"You mean you're not in the business of bartering for human souls?" Isabelle joked quietly.

"Absolutely not!" he cringed dramatically. "Nasty, slimy things. I just made a few deals with some mortals to help them out of some sticky situations and Chris got all jealous. Wanted all of the attention for himself, so he came up with this crazy soul business."

"Do humans even _have_ souls?" Cassie asked curiously, filching another bit of fruit from her plate.

"Only the Buddhists," Micah replied easily, slapping his brother's hand away from his daughter's plate. "That's how they can reincarnate. Is there anything else you need, Isabelle?"

She smiled shyly and shook her head, enjoying the easy banter between the siblings. "I'm fine... dad."

They shared a small smile before Cassie sighed and stretched, glancing toward the gradually lightening horizon. "It's almost daybreak. We were up all night waiting for you, Isabelle."

"Yeah, I haven't had much sleep either," she suddenly realized. All at once, she got the feeling that time was short. "So... why do you guys bring me here? Who am I supposed to be fighting? What do I need to do? How can I-?"

"Hush, sweetheart," her father admonished kindly, holding up his hand for silence. "We've got time for that later. Cassie, why don't you take Isabelle downstairs for a nice bath and get her settled in her room? We'll talk after we've all had a good rest."


End file.
